


Across The Universe

by Anonymous6285



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angel Wings, Angst, Crying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:40:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 30,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23569207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anonymous6285/pseuds/Anonymous6285
Summary: Life is hard when things have changed. It's even harder when you know something bad is about to happen, and there's nothing you can do about it.-Or, Paul is an angel, loses his wings, and falls in love with his best mate.
Relationships: John Lennon/Paul McCartney
Comments: 133
Kudos: 140





	1. Chapter 1

It was near midnight when John heard a knock on the door. It wasn’t unusual for one of bandmates to show up to his house late at night, but what really scared him this time was the sheer force of the knocks. A loud noise continued beating on the door until he opened it to find Paul in tears.

He gasped as the bassist stepped inside and closed the door for him. When he turned around, Paul was already lying face down on the couch. It made his heart hurt, but this turn of events confused him so much more than anything ever had. Paul was an angel, and emotions were so distant from him. What was going on?

John made his way over to the couch, sitting down next to the angel’s legs.

“Paul? You alright?” Sobs escaped the younger’s mouth, startling John. He placed one of hands on Paul’s back, and Paul finally sat up, revealing his tear stained face to John.

“No, I’m not okay. Johnny, I-I lost my w-wings.”

John’s eyes widened. Paul’s wings had been his pride and joy for as long as John had known him. As far as he was concerned, they were what defined the bassist. He didn’t even consider the possibility that Paul could lose them.

“Something horrible happened today. And it was my fault.” John put his hand on Paul’s knee, willing to sit there and listen for hours while his friend talked. “I don’t think I can explain it, but I did something very bad, and this was my punishment.”

When Paul glanced down in shame, John didn’t know what to do. He didn’t want to get too close to the angel (ex-angel?), not knowing if he wanted that. So instead, he stayed exactly where he was.

But then Paul gasped very loudly, gripping at his stomach, leaning back on the couch.

“Are you hurt? Do you need to go to the hospital? You’re not bleeding, are you?”

Paul shook his head. “I’m fine. My stomach just really hurts.”

John nodded to himself. “Would you like some tea?” Paul shrugged and then nodded. “I’ll get you some.”

John was gone for just a minute, but it was long enough to freak Paul, and he got up and walked into the kitchen with John, who turned around, surprised to hear him. “Paul?”

“Sorry. I got kind of freaked out. I didn’t wanna be away from you for so long.” 

Although it sounded a bit off, John never knew Paul to have much feelings at all other than happiness, so having these new found emotions must have wrecked him. John let him practically lean on him as he made the tea. Paul wouldn’t stop moving around, though.

“Why are you moving so much?” The angel shrugged, so John pulled him closer with his arm. “Alright, try to stand still, alright? It’ll help you calm down a bit.”

Paul tried to stand still but started writhing again. John sighed as soon as he dropped the cups he got out onto the ground from the movement. He bent down to pick it up, and when he got the pieces thrown away, he looked over at Paul to see him clutching his stomach and tears running down his face.

“Oh, god, are you gonna be sick?” When Paul said nothing, John grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him to the toilet, pushing him down onto his knees.

“That hurts my wrist, John! What are you doing?”

“I think you might be sick. Have you had anything to eat or drink lately?”

Paul nodded. “I had some water, but I d-don’t know how to swallow solid food.” Right! It had suddenly occurred to John that Paul had never been human before. He didn’t know how to eat food.

Then Paul groaned again, curling in on himself, letting more and more tears escape him. He raised one of his hands to his face, eyes wide with fear when he felt how wet his cheeks were.

“What’s happening with me John? My eyes have been hurting for so long.”

John felt horrible for him. Crying and stomach aches were bad enough, but if you’d never experienced it, it would be a million times worse. “You’re crying, Paulie. It’s what happens when you’re sad or hurt.”

“Am I sad?”

John took Paul’s hand in his own. “I think so.”

“It feels horrible. How do I deal with it?” Then he groaned again, and this time John helped him closer to the toilet. “What’s happening?” Paul’s eyes went wide, and John got confused.

“Er, I’m just keeping you here in case you’re sick. It’ll feel like something’s in your stomach and then kind of rises up a little bit and…” 

Paul shook his head. “It’s not that. It’s…” Paul glanced down, and John followed it to see a wet spot now spreading out on the angel’s pants. “I d-didn’t know that’s what that felt like. Oh, my god. I’m not supposed to do this, am I?”

“Not… particularly. But it’s alright if it happens.” John averted his gaze, but then heard more cries. He turned to see that Paul was crying even harder.

“John, I’m a horrible human. I’m gonna be horrible at this. I don’t know how to eat or cry or even use the toilet, John!”

“We’ll work on that, okay? I promise. Let’s get this all cleaned up, and then we’ll get to bed, yeah?”

“Yeah, okay.”

~

John’s warm bed was never something Paul thought he would enjoy so much. As an angel, he didn’t sleep, and he was surprised at how much he was missing out on. The second his head hit the pillow, his eyes closed, and he started to fall into deep sleep.

~

They both awoke to the sound of horrible beeping. Paul covered his ears as John got up and ran out of the room, covering his mouth when he saw smoke filling the entire kitchen.

“Dammit. The tea” he mumbled just as Paul came into the room. He was quick to see that the pan on the stove was bright orange. Parts of it were melted away, and he hurried to pull it off the stove and put it into the sink.

John saw what he was doing and cringed at how much it must have hurt him. He turned the stove off and started to swat a towel at the smoke alarm. It stopped beeping within minutes, and he turned back over to Paul to see him clenching his hands, tears falling onto his pyjamas.

“Oh, my God.” He saw that the angel had turned the faucet on to cool off the pan, and he snuck up on him, shoving his hands under the faucet. Paul continued to cry, and John sighed, digging through his cabinets for some burn cream and bandages.

“John, it hurts so bad!”

“Just keep your hands there, okay? You’ll be alright.” He found something that would help with the pain and went over to Paul, setting the cream and bandage down on the counter. He gently pulled Paul’s hands away from the sink and motioned for him to sit on the counter.

When he did, John looked over the burns. The palms of his hands were completely red and the skin had started to peel off. He sighed as he could feel the pain himself.

“I hate pain so much! Please make it stop!”

“I’m trying, Paulie.” John took the burn cream and dispensed some onto Paul’s hands, causing a scream of pain. “It’s okay. It’ll be over soon. I promise.” He rubbed the cream in, much to Paul’s dismay, and hurried to open up the cotton pad and gauze and get it wrapped around his hands.

“Thank you so much, John. I don’t know what I would’ve done.”

“No problem, Macca. But you gotta be more careful, okay? Do you want some painkillers?” 

Paul nodded, so John went to go get some out of the cabinet, giving Paul the bottle. As soon as the angel opened it, he gasped. “John, I can’t… I don’t remember how to swallow pills at all.”

“Oh. Er, just pretend it’s not even in your mouth. I’ll get you some water for them.”

Paul’s stomach started to rumble, scaring him. He looked down at it, eyes wide.

“Sounds like your hungry. What do you want for breakfast?” Paul shook his head, and John cocked an eyebrow. “What do you mean? You’ve got to eat brekkie so you won’t be hungry later.”

“I don’t remember how…”

“You… oh!” Paul started to cry again. “We’re gonna work on it, okay?”

Paul nodded. “O-okay.”

“You’ll be alright, Paul. I promise.” He forgot about the pills and went over to hug Paul for the umpteenth time that day. “We’re gonna get through this, alright?”

“Yeah. Thanks so much, John.”

“Of course, Paulie. Anything for you.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lol I've finally written a few more chapters of this XD

John and Paul had spent the rest of the day on the couch staring at a blank television screen. They hardly spoke, as Paul had taken the time to relearn his own emotions. John had been reading the newspaper, but as soon as the phone rang, he got up to answer it.

As he did, Paul got up and followed him. “Paul, you… you don’t have to follow me everywhere. You know that, right?”

“I can’t lose you.” John smiled and put his hand on Paul’s worried face.

“You’re not going to lose me. I promise.” Paul nodded, but he continued to follow his older friend as he made his way into the hall and picked up the phone. “Hello?”

“Who is it?” Paul whispered.

“I don’t know,” John said, placing his hand over the mouthpiece. “Yes? Oh, hey, George… what do you mean? Ringo’s there, too?” Paul watched him nervously. “But it’s Sunday.” A few more seconds of silence passed until John turned to Paul. “What day is it?”

“The 15th,” Paul answered simply.

John huffed. “Shit, no,” he snapped. “What day of the week?”

“Monday.”

“Fuck… Yes, sorry… Well, tell him to calm down. We’ll be there soon… Yeah, Paul’s over here.” He sighed. “No. God, just… Yes, see you soon.” He hung the phone up and ran upstairs. Throwing on the closest pair of pants to him, he spun around, nearly falling over to find Paul standing right next to him.

“John, are you okay?”

“God, why… you’re just standing there!” Paul looked down at the floor, feeling a new wave of emotions coming over him. “What’s the matter?”

“Where are you going?”

“To the studio,” John said dumbly. “You are, too. Life goes on, Paul. Whether you’ve got wings or not.”

Paul gasped. “I forgot we were supposed to go in today. Oh, no. I’ve never… forgotten something so important.”

John couldn’t help but laugh, despite Paul’s obvious concern for the situation. “Hey, mate. Calm down. It’s fine to forget things, you know.” But the angel only eyed him worriedly. “Let’s just get there fast so Brian doesn’t yell at us too much.”

-

As soon as they were there, they saw as Ringo cut his eyes at them. “Two hours,” he mumbled. “You’re two hours late. What were you even doing?” His voice was loud enough to make John flinch, and Paul was even worse.

As he felt tears sting his eyes, he spoke in the softest voice. “I’m sorry, Richie. I forgot it was Monday.”

Ringo looked at him, eyes bright red as he hid his face. And suddenly he felt really strange. “Paul, you don’t have to… cry. Are you crying?”

Paul shrugged, tears rolling down his face. “I think so.”

“Alright, you need to be easy on Paul, okay?” John butted in. “He’s not feeling very good right now.” George eyed him as he wiped off his tears and John put a hand on his shoulder. “Paul, you okay?”

He nodded. “Y-Yeah. We should… record now. I’m sorry we were late.”

As John let go of him and went to get his guitar, Paul followed close after him. “Paul, your bass is over there. I told you to stop following me. I’m not going anywhere.”

Paul seemed taken aback. “I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Get hurt? Paul, go get your own instrument. I’m not gonna get hurt getting my guitar.” Sensing the annoyance in his voice, Paul finally backed off and hurried to get his bass. Brian used the opportunity to pull John out of the room.

“Lennon, he doesn’t seem like he should be here right now.”

John sighed. “He really shouldn’t.”

“Do you think he needs the week off? And why was he coming in with you?” Brian shifted his weight from foot to foot.

“He came over last night. He was just a wreck. I couldn’t say no.”

“Did he lose somebody? Maybe we should just stop recording for a few days.”

John gulped. “He… I don’t know exactly what’s wrong,” he lied. It would be near impossible to explain the fact that Paul was (had been) an angel. Nobody would believe it. He didn’t at first, either. “He’s so attached to me, though. And his emotions are all messed up.”

Brian nodded in understanding. “Is he staying with you?”

John shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t know. I mean he won’t stop following me, so I don’t think I have a choice.”

“I’ll give you a week. But we’re already behind on this album, so we can’t be too long, okay?” 

John nodded. “He’ll be alright.” The two of them started back into the room and immediately saw George and Ringo knelt down over Paul, snuggled into a ball on the floor, sobbing.

George turned around. “God, John. He didn’t know where you went.”

“I just… I turned around and you were gone, and I thought I had lost you.” Tears streamed down Paul’s face as he sprung up from the floor and wrapped his arms around John.

“Paulie, I was just talking to Brian. It’s okay.” But Paul didn’t let go. “Do you want to head back home?”

“With you.”

John nodded. “Yeah. You can come over to my place. Shit, sorry I left you in here. I didn’t know it would worry you so much.”

“I’m just glad you’re okay,” Paul sniveled, pulling away from John. “I’m sorry.”

“No, no… It’s fine.” John looked over at Brian, who had been silent since they came back into the room, seeing he had opened his mouth to speak.

“Lads, I’m gonna give you this week off. Paul isn’t doing too great, so I think it’ll be good for him.” He started to bite the inside of his cheek. 

“A whole week?” Ringo questioned, and Brian nodded.

“Yeah, Rich,” John replied. “Paul needs to rest and get past some things, and he should be fine, right, Paulie?” A shrug. “You’ll be fine.”

“John?” He said lowly, hiding his face by looking at the gorund. “My stomach hurts.”

John nodded at him. “Alright. Let’s get going. See you later, guys.” He looked at Paul just as his stomach began to grumble, and the two of them walked out of the room.

“John, my stomach really hurts,” he whined, grabbing at it as it rumbled again.

“That’s because you haven’t eaten in twenty something years,” John replied sarcastically, rolling his eyes. Paul’s eyes widened.

“I’m scared. I don’t want to eat. It sounds painful,” he said, shivering just a bit.

“If anything, it’ll make you feel better.” He hopped in the driver’s seat of the car and Paul in the passenger. “We’ll stop somewhere on the way back.”

They ended up stopping somewhere, where John ordered chips for Paul in the drive thru, and they pulled off in a parking spot, Paul eyeing the chips carefully. “I just don’t know how I’m supposed to do this.” 

John took one from the cup and held it between his fingers. “So you bite it with your teeth.” Paul bit the chip, immediately starting to swallow before promptly gagging. “Shit, Paul! No, you’ve got to chew!”

“Chew?” Paul cocked his eyebrow, seeming unfamiliar with the word.

“You know… like, kind of mush the chip up with your back teeth before you swallow it.” Paul nodded, once again shoving a new chip in his mouth and chewing it up. He had swallowed it within a few moments, and John smiled.

“That tastes really good.” He shoved his hand back into the cup for another.

“Yeah, it does. Ready to get going, then?” Paul nodded. “Alright, let’s get you home.” He started to drive off, and Paul dropped the cup of chips, causing it to spill all over him. “Shit,” John mumbled, throwing some napkins over at him, but the bassist didn’t take them.

“God, I’m so bad at this! I can’t even eat chips!” John wanted to find it funny, but the way Paul seemed so upset made it hard to.

“It’s fine, Paul. Sorry I should’ve told you to hold on to it.” Paul put the spilled chips back in the cup and put it down on the counter, throwing his napkins in it, too. “Hey, you can still eat them, you know. They’re not ruined or anything.”

“Oh. Okay, I’ll eat them.” He put another one in his mouth, carefully chewing it. “Thanks for the chips, Johnny. I can pay you back if you want.”

“They were only like a pound. You don’t have to pay me back.” He chuckled at Paul’s offer. “Let’s just get you home. How’s your hand?”

“It doesn’t hurt anymore.” He swallowed a chip and looked down at his burnt hand.

“That’s good. I don’t know anything about burns, though, so if it’s getting worse, please let me know, yeah?”

“Okay, John. Would you like some more chips? I can’t imagine smelling something so heavenly and not eating them.” He held out the cup of chips to his friend.

“Yeah, sure.” When he reached his hand in and grabbed a chip out, Paul smiled. “Thanks.”


	3. Chapter 3

Back at John’s house, Paul had already finished his chips and thrown away the cup, and he was already searching through the kitchen cabinets, desperate for something else to eat.

“Paul, I’ll make dinner later. You just ate.” Paul turned around with the widest eyes. “Don’t give me that look. You just ate. You don’t need more.”

“But I like eating.”

“Most people do. But that doesn’t mean you should just eat all the time.” He sighed, slumping down in his chair. “How are you feeling?”

Paul grinned. “Happy!” he exclaimed, and John laughed.

“No, I meant… okay, I’m glad your happy, Paul. That’s one of the better feelings, huh?” He nodded. “Well, enjoy it while it lasts.”

Paul frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, just… it’s easy to feel happy, but before you know it, your mood has completely changed and all you want to do is go die in a hole.”

The bassist gasped softly. “How could somebody want to go die in a hole after they ate chips? That’s so sad.”

“Yeah, well, you don’t get chips very often.” Paul’s nostrils flared, and John saw that he was getting a little worried. “I mean, I could get you some more chips if you really want them, though.”

The smile returned, so John sighed inwardly. “Yay! Can we have chips for dinner?”

“Paul, my god! No. But we can order pizza if you want.” The look on the angel’s face told John all he needed to know: Paul had never tasted the true beauty of pizza. “Oh, my God. You’re eating pizza tonight. You’re going to love it.”

“Well, if you’re so sure, I guess so.”

-

Their pizza was ordered and at their door within an hour, and Paul’s nose was submerged in the smell immediately. “God, that’s amazing.”

“Yeah,” John said, paying the boy on his front porch. He closed the door back and set the pizza down on the table. “You can have as much as you want. I’m not too hungry tonight.” He sighed, taking one piece of pizza and plopping it down on a plate from the cabinet.

“You’re only having one?” Paul tilted his head, picking up a piece and putting in his mouth, which hung limp for a second. “This is so good, and you’re only having one?”

John hummed, leaving the room, but Paul called after him.

“John, are you sad?”

“No! I’m not sad! Just eat your damn pizza, Paul!” He huffed, and Paul didn’t hear from him again. He sat down and ate his pizza slowly and alone. When he was done, he started on his way to the bathroom.

But when he walked in, he saw John looking at himself in the mirror.

“John?” John jumped up and pushed his shirt down to cover his stomach. 

“Shit, Paul. What are you doing? Can’t you give a man some bloody privacy? Fuck…”

“I’m sorry,” Paul replied genuinely. “What are you doing?” John rolled his eyes.

“Nothing. What are you doing?”

“I think I have to pee again.” He started over to the toilet, pulling his pants down and sitting down.

“Paul, you--”

But then the fallen angel began to pee, and John shut his mouth. “What?” Paul questioned.

“Nothing. Nevermind. Just finish up.” And he slipped out of the bathroom, leaving Paul by himself. He sat on the couch until Paul came out and sat next to him.

“Are you sad?” John shook his head. “Are you sure? Why were you examining yourself? Are you hurt? Maybe you should see a doctor.”

“I’m not hurt, Paul. Please just leave it alone,” he snapped, and then he heard Paul sniffle.

“I’m sorry, John. I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m just trying to help.”

“Well, you can help by shutting up about it, okay?” He muttered a few words to himself as he got up and ran off into his bedroom. Paul was immediately running to the phone and dialling a number.

It rang for a few minutes before, “Brian?”

“Hello? Paul? Are you alright?” 

“Yes, I’m fine,” Paul replied slowly. “But I think maybe John is hurt.”

Brian was quiet for a few seconds. “W-why? What happened?”

“He… well, he keeps looking at himself in the mirror, and I’m probably just overreacting, but it’s just really scaring me. Making me upset, you know?”

A sigh came from the other end of the line. “Paul, I think… just don’t tell anybody else, okay? He’s alright. I can talk to him.”

“Are you sure he’s okay?”

“Yes. Goodbye, Paul.”

“Bye.” He put the phone down and took a deep breath, glad that John was okay.

-

That night, John put Paul to bed early after he said he was feeling very tired. Even though it was only 7:30, it was the bassist’s first full day not as an angel, and all of his feelings had probably worn him out.

But as he got things cleaned up from pizza that night, the phone rang. WIth a deep sigh, he picked up.

“Hello?”

“Hey, John. It’s Brian. Do you have a minute?”

“Depends on how important this really is,” John said blandly.

“Lovely. So… Paul called me earlier today.” John froze. What could Paul have possibly told him? That he was an angel? I mean, surely that wouldn’t be taken seriously enough for Brian to call him over, right? “He said you were looking at yourself in the mirror.”

“Shit.”

“He’s really worried about you, but I don’t think he understood what you were doing,” Brian said slowly, not wanting to freak John out too much.

“Sorry he called you over that. I’m fine. I just… got a little cut on my side. That’s all.”

“John…”

“I said that’s all, Eppy! Just drop it already!” He huffed out, and then sighed. “Anything else so very important that you must know?”

“Erm… no, that’s fine.”

“Great. I’m gonna go wallow in self pity, then--”

“Wait! How’s Paul doing? Have you figured out what’s wrong with him?”

John silenced himself for a second. “Er, he’s alright. I haven’t figured out much of anything, though. He seems to be doing alright, though. Feeling a lot better.”

“Not so clingy?”

“Definitely not as clingy?”

“Can I talk to him?” When Brian heard John laugh through the phone, he got confused. “What’s so funny, Lennon?”

“Nothing… he just already is in bed. He’s fucking exhausted.”

Brian chuckled. “From what? He didn’t even work at all today.”

“He ate some crisps. And like an entire bloody pizza. Probably gonna be sick or something.” John then realised what he’d said. “Oh, shit. He is gonna be sick, isn’t he?”

“I’m sure he’ll be fine. He’s a grown man, John. I think he knows how to vomit.” John shuddered. “Well, I guess you have him all figured out, then. I’ll call you tomorrow to check in on him. Goodnight, John.”

“Night, Eppy.” The line went dead, and John hung the phone back on the wall.

-

In the middle of the night, John was awoken by Paul yelling his name. He jumped out of bed, and ran to the hall, where Paul was huddled in the hallway over a puddle of sick.

“Oh, god, Paulie…” He got closer to the angel just as he was flung forward again and spewed more vomit onto the floor. John sidestepped it and put a hand on Paul’s back. “You’re alright. Just let it all out.”

After a few seconds, Paul leaned back and groaned. “I don’t know what happened. I’m sorry.”

“Nope. No more sorrys. Wasn’t your fault.”

“I couldn’t stop it!” Paul cried, putting the back of his hand to his forehead. “What happened?”

“Well, you ate an entire pizza, love,” John laughed. “You can’t just eat that much and not get sick.”

“Oh. I didn’t know…”

John rolled his eyes. “Of course you didn’t know. I’m not saying you did it on purpose.” He continued to rub Paul’s back. “Do you think you’re finished?”

Paul nodded. “Yeah. But I need some water.”

“Alright. Go get yourself some water and I’ll take care of this, yeah?”

“Okay.” Paul clumped off to the kitchen, and John turned towards the puddle of sick on the floor, grimacing. He retrieved a towel from the bathroom and wiped it up as best he could before throwing the towel in the washer.

He headed to the kitchen to get some spray to clean it with and ran into Paul, whose face was bright red.

“Do you need any help cleaning it? I’ve had some water.”

John shook his head. “No. Was it only in the hall or did it get on your bed or anything?”

“No, just the hall.”

“Alright. Well, you can head back to bed, then. I’ve got it all taken care of.”

The angel smiled. “Thanks, John. Goodnight.”

“Yeah, yeah. Goodnight. Don’t let the bedbugs bite.”

Paul’s eyes widened. “Th-there’s bugs?? Do they hurt? I don’t really want to be hurt anymore, John…”

“Fuck, no, Paul, they’re not real.” He put his arms around Paul, who had begun shaking spastically. “It’s just an expression. There’s no bugs.”

“Really?” he asked weakly, and John hummed.

“Promise. Now go to bed and get some more rest. You need it.” Paul nodded and left for good this time, leaving John to get his spray and clean up the rest of the mess.


	4. Chapter 4

The next morning, Paul was up way after John. He practically ran from the room to find John peacefully sitting on the couch, and he relaxed.

“What?” John asked, looking up at him. “Thought I died or something?”

Paul scowled. “It’s not funny to joke about that, John. I didn’t know.”

“Why’d you call Brian?”

“W-what do you mean?” Paul asked nervously. “I didn’t call Brian…”

“Paul, you should have just fucking talked to me! You know I’m still here to talk to!”

“I did try, and you told me not to worry about it--” His voice was so soft, but John only interrupted him.

“And it was nothing to be worried over! Now Brian knows about something I didn’t want him to, and that makes me really upset.”

Paul looked down at the floor. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have… sorry.” A tear rolled down his cheek. “You were right, you know. I miss being happy. That was such a good feeling. And now I feel like I’ve just made you mad, and I don’t know what it is--”

“Paul, it’s fine. I didn’t want to yell at you. He also said you were worried about me.” Paul nodded. “Look, I know all this feeling is really new to you, but you just need to work through it, and it’s alright if you’re worried about me. But you can just tell me.”

“I didn’t want to upset you…”

“You’re not going to upset me by telling me the truth.”

“I did. I asked why you were looking at yourself in the mirror, and you got so upset--”

“No,” John interrupted. “No, I wasn’t upset that you were worried. I was upset that you invaded my privacy. That’s another thing. I’ll always leave the toilet door unlocked, but if I’m in there and you have no valid reason to come barge instead of knocking, don’t come in. Please.”

Paul nodded. “Okay. I can knock. That’s okay. Sorry.”

“Paul,” John said sternly, taking Paul’s hand in his own, and the younger man looked worriedly into his eyes. “Your apology has been accepted. Stop saying sorry.”

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

“Paul! What did I just say?” Suddenly his stomach grumbled, and Paul jumped up into the air like a scared puppy. He ran over to John.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I just haven’t had brekkie yet. Your stomach does that when you don’t eat, Paul.”

Paul gulped. “Why aren’t you eating?” John shrugged, trying to avoid answering the question. “Could that kill you?” 

“I dunno. Probably.”

Paul then pulled at his arm so hard, he thought it would fall off. “Go eat! I don’t want you getting sick or dying, John!”

“What the fuck is your fascination with me dying? I’m not gonna bloody die from skipping breakfast, okay? You need to calm down!” John yanked his arm back away from Paul’s limp hand.

“John… I just can’t lose you.” John stared at him for a moment. “Sorry, I’ll shut up.”

“Paul McCartney! If you don’t stop these bleedin’ apologies, I’m going to punch you!” Paul got silent and started to cry.

“John, I’m just worried about you! I just know that something bad is going to happen, and I don’t know what it is.”

“What are you talking about?”

Paul shook his head. “Nothing. Never mind. Just leave me alone.” He turned around and went right back into his room, leaving John sitting on the couch, completely shocked and confused.

“Shit,” he said to himself. “Shit, Paul! Come back!” But Paul didn’t reappear. “Fuck!” John got up and stormed into the kitchen. “I’ll eat some bloody brekkie for you! But please just come back out here!”

He got up and threw two pieces of bread in the toaster, sighing to himself. When they popped up just a few minutes later, he got startled, jumping up a bit, and then Paul walked into the room, his cheeks still stained with tears.

“I know you told me not to apologise, but I think that I should. I didn’t mean to say anything rude to you, and whatever I said obviously hurt you.”

John almost laughed out loud at how strange the apology sounded, but his friend probably wasn’t very used to heartfelt ones. “Paul, it’s fine. I didn’t mean to explode at you. You just keep saying the weirdest shit, and it’s bothering me.” He heard as Paul swallowed the spit in his mouth. “I’m making toast. Thought it’d ease your troubled mind.”

“That’s thoughtful. I’m glad you’re eating. Maybe now you won’t look so skinny when you’re looking at yourself in the mirror.”

“What?” John said quietly.

“I just saw how skinny you were yesterday. It looks like you haven’t eaten a proper meal in days. I mean the press is completely wrong! Can you believe they called me the cute one?” He laughed at himself, but John didn’t know what to say.

“I am eating, Paul…” he reassured the bassist. “At least my meals… most of them.”

“John, it’s alright if you’re not eating so much. I’m sure you have your own reasons.”

John sighed. “It’s really not alright, though.” Paul stared at him. “It’s not good for me. I mean, it’s not like I’m completely starving myself, but still… I should be eating more.”

“Then why don’t you?” Paul asked immediately like it was the most simple question in the world. John was really pushing his limits now.

“Paul, do you know what happens when you eat a lot?”

Paul looked up at the ceiling while he thought. “Erm, you get sick…”

“No, well, yeah. But just in general, when you eat a lot, you just… I don’t know. Maybe I’m just listening too much to the papers.”

Suddenly, it dawned on Paul. “Johnny, do you think you’re fat?”

His eyes widened. “I mean… yeah, who doesn’t?”

“I don’t.”

John stared at him for a little while. “Paul, you don’t really know what it’s like to have other people think things about you.”

“Why does it matter what other people think of me? If I want to be fat, then I’ll love it.”

John laughed. “But it does matter. Like when you wear a weird shirt and people on the bus probably are looking at you funny behind your back.”

“Why would people even care?” Paul was so confused at this moment.

“Paul… just, that’s what people care about, you know? Like if you’re dressed properly or if you’re skinny or--”

“Well, if they care about that, then they don’t deserve to be your friend, John!” he shouted, crossing his arms. “That’s stupid! I wouldn’t just not be your friend because you were wearing some stupid shirt!”

“I didn’t say you were going to be… nevermind. I’ll just--”

“No! This is stupid! Is that why you’re not eating? Because of what the press thinks of you?” John sighed, opening his mouth to talk, but Paul wasn’t going to let him. “I’m calling Brian!”

“Paul, you can’t just call Brian whenever you have a problem!”

“He’s our manager!”

“Of the band! Not our bloody lives!” Paul huffed through his nose. 

“If you aren’t eating because of the press, that’s a band matter.”

“How—?”

“Because if it weren’t for the band, you wouldn’t even be in the papers in the first place. If it weren’t for our band, you wouldn’t have ever been the fat Beatle!”

John let his mouth hang open. “Get out,” he said coolly. 

“What?”

“Get the fuck out of my house.” He remained as calm as he could as Paul huffed and marched out into the street, slamming the door on his way out. 

He marched as far as he could before getting tired and sitting down on a park bench next to him. He’d never been so tired like that before, his breathing heavy, making his throat feel even colder in the weather. 

He laid down on the bench and closed his eyes despite the amount of people walking by and giving him weird glances. And his arms suddenly felt very cold without a coat. John’s house didn’t feel like this…

Before he even knew it, though, he was nodding off, small tears sliding down his face but practically freezing before they could drip off and onto the ground. 

Now every time he closed his eyes, he saw John yelling at him, and it scared him. Fear was a strange thing too that he hadn’t felt. All these emotions were only making life harder. It was no longer just about accepting the basic facts of life and moving on. It was about learning the facts and then over analyse them and cry over them and feel guilty over them. 

And guilt was definitely something he was feeling now. If only he had never even talked to John that way, never even brought up the fat Beatle comment. It was too late now, though. He’d already been kicked out. And kicked out for good.


	5. Chapter 5

Brian was watching television when his phone rang once again, and with a sigh, he stood up to walk towards it. If it was Paul worried about John again, he was going to have a talk with the both of them. But as soon as he had it to his ear, he heard a soft voice of a woman he’d never heard before.

“Are you Brian?” she asked.

“Erm, yeah, that’s me. Who is this?” He shifted his weight onto his right foot nervously.

“My name’s Kathy. I saw Paul McCartney asleep on the sidewalk while I was on my way home, and this is the only number he had.”

Brian felt his heart sink. Thank god nobody had hurt him! But what in the world was he doing on the sidewalk in the middle of the day? “Oh, my God! Can I talk to him?”

Seconds later, he heard the bassist’s shaky voice. “H-hey, Bri. You wanted to talk to me?”

“Shit, Paul! What were you doing sleeping on the sidewalk?” He waited, but Paul said nothing. “Paul?” he tried again.

“I’m sad, Brian. Can you come get me?” His heart broke even more. All Paul had to say for himself was that he was sad? His angry mood softened.

“Yes, I can. Just… stay wherever you are. Where are you?”

“I don’t know,” Paul admitted dejectedly.

“Can you put the woman back on the phone?”

It was silent for a few seconds, and he didn’t stop his mind from wondering how sad Paul really was. John had said something bad happened, but what could force you to sleep outside in this weather? The lady’s voice brought him back. “Hey.”

“Could you tell me where you are and just stay there with Paul until I’m there?”

“Of course!”

She gave him her location and sat with Paul until the man’s small black car pulled up next to them, and Paul got into the car as fast as he could. Brian thanked the woman quickly before Paul slammed the door shut, and then he looked at the bassist.

“Brian,” he said in tears. “I’m so sorry.” His fingers were purple with the coldness of outside.

“It’s freezing out! Why aren’t you wearing a coat? And why the hell were you asleep on the sidewalk?”

“I didn’t know how to deal with anything, and I just wanted to not be awake anymore.” The way he said it made it sound like he had tried to kill himself.

“God, Paul. What about John? Where’s he?” Paul looked out the window, obviously trying to avoid Brian’s question. “Paul?”

“Home,” Paul whispered almost inaudibly. “He told me to get out. I guess I was bothering him too much.”

Brian huffed, his eyes narrowing as he began to drive off. “Do you want to go back to his house?”

Paul nodded, another single tear rolling down his cheek. “I don’t like being away from him.”

Brian didn’t know how Paul couldn’t be angry with John after that, but he didn’t reply, starting on his way to John’s.

-

As soon as John heard the knock, he knew that it had to be Paul, so he hurried to the front door and threw it open, finding Brian with his arms crossed and Paul standing behind him. The bassist pushed past him to hug John when he saw him, but Brian’s mood didn’t change. John hugged him back.

“What the fuck, John? You kicked him out?” Paul closed his eyes, feeling John in between his arms and the strong surge of emotions starting to ball up inside of him. 

“It’s none of your concern, Brian. You can leave now.”

“No! It is my bloody concern! My bassist was asleep on a public sidewalk!” His face was incredulous, and his voice was angrier than John had ever heard it before. And Brian had been very angry before.

“He’s not your bassist! He’s a person! And he’s obviously going through some shit right now, so just leave him the fuck alone!”

“At least I didn’t send him out on the streets!” Brian shouted, putting his hands down at his sides. “I thought I could trust you, John!”

“It was my fault,” Paul said quietly, nuzzling his face into John’s shoulder. Then he whined, and John put a hand on top of his head, messing around with his black hair.

“No, Macca, it wasn’t. Look, I’m sorry Brian, but please just leave it alone.”

“Can I stay with John?” Paul asked weakly, and Brian sighed. He knew something was going on, but he couldn’t quite put a finger on it.

“You can stay, but I swear to god, Lennon, before you send him out next time, please just let me come pick him up, okay?”

John rolled his eyes. “Fine. Bye, Brian.” He slammed the door and started walking back to the living room, Paul refusing to let go of him.

“I was so worried I’d hurt you, John. I’m sorry.”

“Fuck, Macca, you’re allowed to be mad! I kicked you out with absolutely nothing. You must have been freezing!” He took one of Paul’s hands in his own and felt how cold it was. And he immediately pulled him down onto the couch and draped a blanket over both of them.

“I’m not mad, John.”

“Well, you ought to be.”

Paul looked down at the floor. “I’m sorry. My emotions must be messed up. I didn’t know I was supposed to be mad.”

“No, you’re not supposed to be-- never mind. Are you okay?” Paul shrugged. “Well, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have just thrown you out like that.”

“My arm hurts. Really bad.” John pulled the blanket down, but the burn on the man’s hand looked fine to him. “No, my arm. Not my hand.”

“What do you mean?” Paul raised a hand up to his shoulder, rubbing it lightly. “Oh.” John reached over and folded the shirt sleeve up to see a scrape on his arm. “What did you do?”

“I fell asleep on a bench and woke up on the ground,” he said with a weak smile and laugh.

“Oh, god. Did you think that through, then?” Paul’s smile immediately fell.

“I didn’t… sorry.”

“Love, it’s your arm. You don’t have to apologise to me about it.” The angel noticed the sarcasm in his voice and smiled again. Suddenly, he crawled up on top of John, who froze where he was. “Paul, I don’t want to be rude, but what the fuck--?”

“I’m cold,” he said simply, a smirk placed gently on his face, but he kept it hidden so John couldn’t see.

“Well, I’d imagine so, but--”

“You’re warm.” John smiled when Paul nuzzled his frozen face into his neck. “Why do you get so mad all the time?” When he spoke, John could feel the vibrations in his chest.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you’re a very nice person. And you always just get so mad over one little thing. And then you ruin your whole day.” John said nothing in reply to him. “And maybe other people’s days, too. Like mine. I was really sad when you made me leave, and I’m still not completely sure what I did wrong.”

“Aw, shit, Paul. You didn’t do anything wrong. I was just being stupid. You’re right.”

Paul sniffled as he stared at John before snuggling closer to him again. “Well, are you gonna do it again?”

“No, Macca. I won’t.” The angel hummed, and John pulled him close. 

Just a few seconds later, though, Paul’s stomach grumbled. “I’m hungry, John.” 

“I hear that. Let’s get you fed.” Suddenly, Paul’s eyes widened and John couldn’t help but laugh at it. “What? You don’t want to eat?”

“I don’t want to vomit again…” he replied seriously, real worry written all over his face.

“Oh, Paul. God, that doesn’t happen every time you eat. Only when you make yourself sick.” The angel’s stomach grumbled again. “Alright. I’m gonna make you some lunch.”

“Okay.” He took a deep breath and looked right into John’s eyes, mere inches from his face. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Paul sighed with a smile. “But you’ve got to let me up so I can find you something to eat.”

“Oh,” he laughed, getting up off of John’s lap and watching as John stood up himself.

“What do you want?”

“I don’t know, really. Whatever you want to make, I’ll eat.” He fell back onto the warm spot on the couch as John nodded to himself.

“Sounds good.” And the older man started out of the room, Paul watching him with every step he took.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked it, leave a kudo or comment :)


	6. Chapter 6

That night, Paul was up much later than the previous night. He didn’t know if it had to do with him sleeping through the morning and well into the afternoon, but for some reason, his body just didn’t want him to fall asleep.

John stepped into his room around eleven. “Hey, you’re still up?” he asked upon seeing Paul sitting on the edge of his bed, staring at the wall.

“Yeah. Just having a hard time sleeping, is all.” His voice sounded rather sad, but he still had a genuine smile on his face.

“Do you want a sleeping pill?”

Paul cocked his head. “A sleeping pill?”

“Erm, yeah! They just help you sleep, I suppose. I’ve only used them a couple of times.” Paul nodded after a few seconds of thinking about it. “Alright, I’ll get you one. Just stay here.”

Paul stayed exactly where he was, focusing his gaze on the wall once again until John returned, handing him the pill and a glass of water.

“How do I swallow it?”

“Oh, it’s easy,” John replied with a smile, sitting down on the bed next to Paul. “Just put it on the back of your tongue and drink some water. If you don’t even think about it, it’s even easier.”

Paul nodded, putting the pill in his mouth, but when he took a sip of water, he coughed and spit it back out into his hand. “Sorry,” he said quickly, ashamed.

“It’s alright. First time is never easy. You know, Aunt Mimi still can’t take pills.”

Paul laughed. “Really?”

“Yeah. And she gets so mad when I make fun of her for it.”

“You gonna make fun of me, then?” Paul joked, putting the pill back in his mouth.

“Nah. You’re not as strict as her.” Then, Paul took another sip of water, and this time, after he swallowed, there was no pill in his mouth. “Hey, you did it!” John cheered. 

Paul smiled. “How long does it take to work?”

“I don’t know. Why don’t you just get in bed and try to sleep. Maybe it’ll kick in pretty fast.”

Paul nodded and crawled up the bed and under the covers, sighing peacefully. “Thanks for your pill.”

“Yeah, no problem.” He took a long look at Paul, sadness in his eyes.

“What is it?”

“I just… feel pretty bad, you know?” Paul shrugged, looking down at his hands. “I mean, do you know why you lost your wings?”

“I do,” Paul whispered, and John’s eyes widened slightly.

“Well, why then? We’ve got to get them back--”

“John, as much as I do want them back…” He took a deep breath and looked up at his friend. “As much as I want them back, I can’t get them back.”

“If there’s a way to get them taken away, surely there’s a way to get them back, yeah?”

“There is,” Paul admitted. “But it’s not worth it. Trust me.”

John got quiet but nodded. “Yeah, alright. If you say so. But whatever it is, I won’t blame you if you want your wings back. I know how much they meant to you.”

“I think there’s something that means more.” Paul’s eyes bore into John’s. “Goodnight, John.” He closed his eyes, and after a few seconds, he felt a pair of lips on his forehead.

“Goodnight, Macca. Sweet dreams.”

-

Many hours later, though, Paul still hadn’t fallen asleep. He continued staring at the wall until probably four when he finally admitted to himself that he wasn’t going to be able to fall asleep at all. He got out of bed and walked out to the living room, turning on the telly. If he wasn’t going to be able to sleep, he would at least have something to do.

He kept the lights off and the volume down, though, not wanting to wake John.

And he stayed there for another few hours, watching silly cartoons, and for the first time ever, actually finding them funny. He didn’t realise what time it was until the lights above him turned on, and he spun around to see John with a most puzzled look on his face.

“H-hey, John,” he said nervously, not wanting to get in trouble for staying up so late. 

“You’re already awake?” John replied, much too confused to even say hello back. Paul quickly glanced at the wall clock to see that it was nearly 8:30. Had he really stayed up all night?”

“I’m already awake…?” Paul repeated, and John just laughed.

“I can see that.” He started on his way to the kitchen, continuing to make conversation. “That sleeping pill must have really worked, huh?” Paul remained quiet, and John took notice. “You okay?” he shouted from the other side of the house.

“Yeah,” Paul said, getting up and following him. “Yeah, m’fine. Why do you ask?”

“Oh, nothing. Just… you seem off. How long have you been watching cartoons?”

“I don’t know,” he lied. In reality it had probably been a good four or five hours.

“Are you ready for some breakfast?” Paul nodded. “You know, you’re more than welcome to my kitchen. You don’t have to wait until I’m up to make some food.”

“I-I don’t know how,” he lied once again, and John only stared at him.

“Did you want me to… show you how to make toast or something?” Paul nodded, and John just laughed. “Right.”

John grabbed two pieces of bread and set them down on the counter as he got the toaster out.

“Have you been feeling alright?” John asked, looking over at Paul. “Last night, you said you knew how to get your wings back.”

“I said there was a way…” Paul corrected him. 

“Well, you do know how, right?” He shoved the pieces of bread into the toaster and pushed them down.

“John, I really don’t want to talk about this now.”

“Will you tell me one day, then?” he replied eagerly.

“I’m sure I will. But I’m not getting my wings back, so please don’t think that-- well, just don’t keep that in your head, okay?” John took a second but nodded anyway.

“Yeah, okay.” Then he looked back over at the toaster. “So… erm, well, first you just pop the bread down into the toaster.”

Paul smiled and looked over at the small machine, seeing the dial set to five. “What do the numbers mean? Is that how many minutes it goes in?”

“Well--” John chuckled, scratching his head. “I guess you could say that-- but, erm-- you know, I don’t really know what the numbers mean. Maybe… level of toastiness?”

“Level of what?” Paul asked with an even bigger smile.

“No, seriously. I bet the numbers are just levels of toastiness. Our toast is currently on level five toastiness.”

“Is that even a real thing?”

As the angel stared him down, John just shrugged. “I bet you that somewhere, whoever invented the toaster made his own scale of toastiness just to mess with our heads.”

“You think that the man who invented a toaster was thinking of us specifically and thinking what he could possibly do to make us wonder?”

“No!” John said a bit louder. “No, I think he was trying to piss us off.”

“That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Is it, though?” the older man replied with a cocked brow.

“Well, it didn’t even work!” Paul exclaimed, now laughing. “You’re in one of the best moods I’ve ever seen you in. And I ought to know, I’ve known you since you were… what, 16?”

John rolled his eyes. “Whatever. I’m telling you… He sure messed with our heads. Now, I’ve got to go time it to make sure it’s not minutes.”

Then the toast popped up, scaring the living daylight out of Paul, who jumped up in the air and squealed. This only made John laugh harder.

“You just got scared by a toaster!” he erupted, trying to catch his breath.

“Oh, shut up and get the toast out before it gets cold.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He pulled the two pieces of bread out and laid them on a plate, going to get the butter out.

“What now?” Paul asked.

“You just spread some butter on. However much you want.” He handed the stick of butter to Paul along with a knife, and the angel took a bit of it and tasted it.

“Oh, my god! That’s good! God, that’s good.” He started to spread butter all over his bread, and John just stared with wide eyes as he could no longer see the bread.

“Maybe not so much, Paul…”

“Oh.” He looked down at the butter and giggled, handing it to John. “Sorry,” he chuckled.

“Oh, no, it’s your toast. You can do whatever the hell you want to it, I suppose.” He took the butter, starting to spread it on his own piece, and Paul watched the entire time. John didn’t use quite as much as he did.


	7. Chapter 7

“Hey, John?” Paul sat down on the couch next to him with a freshly made sandwich on top.

“Yeah?” 

“What’s love?”

John’s eyes widened as a small smile appeared on his face. He turned towards Paul, ignoring the show he had been watching. “And what’s so important, then?”

“I was just wondering,” he replied shyly, playing with his hands.

“Well, what do you want to know?”

“What’s it like?”

John nearly choked. “You want me to explain sex to you?” he laughed, and Paul blushed madly.

“N-no,” he stuttered out. “No, love! Not sex!”

“Erm… okay? Well, it depends on the kind of love.” He looked up at the ceiling. “Like, for family, it’s kind of like… well, how you loved your mum and dad, and Mike.”

Paul only shook his head. “I don’t think I did, John. I mean, I guess I appreciated the fact that they kept me so well taken care of, but--”

“You didn’t love your family?” John asked. “How could you not love your family?”

“I’m sorry. I just didn’t know how to feel that kind of emotion.”

John bit his lip. “They knew, then?”

“Of course they knew. They taught me how to eat, obviously. But I always threw it back up, you know. Like my body just wouldn’t digest anything. They always thought that it was weird how I always seemed to be sick, but when they took me to the doctor, I was fine. By the time I was five and still hadn’t gotten through a meal, they took me to this other guy.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. He told them that my body was only acting as some sort of telephone. I was occupying it, but I wasn’t using it as a human body. More of a way to communicate.” John only stared at him. “When I was ten, that’s when I… that’s when I grew my wings.” Paul laughed at the memory.

“What’s so funny?”

“I just… It wasn’t funny then, but god, my parents were horrified.” His smile started to fade.

~

“Jim, you need to call somebody! Now!” A woman continued to rub Paul’s back as he sat next to her in a small dining room chair. He was hunched over, hands gripping over his shoulders at the burning pain in his back.

“Mummy!” he cried. “It hurts! It hurts!” It was, after all, the first instance of pain he’d ever had. 

“Jim! We need to take him to the hospital!”

“They can’t do a bloody thing about it, Mary! The boy hasn’t felt a thing in his life, and you think they can just fix him!”

Mary glanced at Paul again. “God, anything is better than just sitting here and letting it happen! Please!”

Paul screamed again, scaring the little boy on the other side of the kitchen. “Mummy? What’s wrong with Paul?”

“We don’t know, Mikey. But he’s going to be fine.” She rubbed at his back again. “Paulie, you’re going to be fine.”

“Why does it hurt so bad?!” He screamed again.

“Hey, honey, just breathe.” She started to breathe with the boy, who was beginning to calm down a bit. “Jim, can you call Ricky?”

The older man nodded and ran off to get the telephone. He was back in seconds. “Ricky, hey!” he said, unraveling the cord, stuck on the table. “Erm, well, I wish I could say it was, but Paul is… his back hurts.”

Mary glanced over at him just as Mike ran up and grabbed onto Paul’s arm. “Is he gonna die, Mummy?”

“No,” she whispered back. “No, sweetie, we won’t let that happen.”

“No, it’s not like that, Rick. It’s… he’s never, like, felt any pain before. It’s a first for him.” Jim got quiet for a second before gasping softly and looking up at the three of them waiting to see what was to be said. “Mary, check under his shirt for two red lines. They should look like scratches.”

Mary slowly lifted up her son’s shirt to reveal two giant scratch marks that looked like they were almost bleeding. “Oh, my god!” she exclaimed, dropping the shirt back down and placing a hand over her mouth.

“What’s wrong?” Mike asked, but Paul only tensed, and Mary didn’t answer.

“Yes, yes, he’s got scratches.” He widened his eyes as he stared at Mary. “Mary, take off his shirt! Now!”

The woman was quick to do so, and Paul screamed at the pain of the shirt running over the scratches.

“W-what’s going on, Jim? What’s wrong with him?”

“Erm… don’t freak out, but… he’s growing wings…”

Mary screamed so loud that Mike and Paul both winced. “Wings?!”

Jim listened intently into the phone as Ricky continued to talk. “Yeah. It’s supposed to feel like a childbirth,” he said. “Can you get him breathing?”

“My son is giving birth?!” she cried. “Oh, god!”

“Mum! It hurts so bad!” More tears spilled out of his eyes.

“God, I know, sweetie. We’re gonna get through this, okay?” He nodded at her, and she started to demonstrate breathing exercises for him. “You’re doing good. Mike, honey, can you get your brother some water?”

The younger boy scampered off to the cup cabinet, and Mary looked over at Paul. “You feel okay?” He shook his head with a whimper. “Well, I can’t imagine you would. I don’t remember much about giving birth to you two, but what I do remember is how much it really hurts.”

He started to scream again, hunching forward as the scratches on his back got bigger. “Mum!!”

“Oh, god. Oh, sweetie… Jim, what are we supposed to do?!” 

He shrugged. “Ricky, the scratches are widening… no, they’re not bleeding. They’re really red, though.” Mary looked back up at him again after glancing to make sure Paul was okay. “He said they’re going to get very big when the wings come out… his entire back length.”

Mary sobbed. “Is he sure Paul can handle this? What if it kills him?”

Jim’s jaw dropped as he listened to Ricky. “H-he can’t die.”

“What?”

“Ricky said that if Paul is what he thinks he is, he can’t die. Like, ever. His body is going to age, but… his conscience is going to go on… forever.”

Paul started to cry harder. “Oh, Paul, you’ll be alright. Let’s just get you through this, okay?”

“Paul,” Jim said. “Can you feel something inside your back?”

“Y-yeah.”

“They’re almost out, then.” At just that moment, the scratches started to stretch so far as the boy screamed louder than he had before. Huge, gaping holes opened up, but not a drop of blood fell out of him.

“Just breathe, Paul,” Mary encouraged. “Breathe! Jim, when are they supposed to come out?”

“No!” Jim yelled into the phone. “No, they’re not out yet! What? Ricky, I don’t care what your books say! They’re not out yet! Well, what am I supposed to do?! There are two giant h--” He cut himself off when the holes started to close, and Paul caught his breath. “They’re closing. Ricky, they’re closing!... I know, but there aren’t any wings!”

As he continued arguing with the man on the phone, Paul glanced to his left and smiled widely. “Oh, my god! Mum, aren’t they beautiful?”

Mary looked at where her son was admiring something, but she didn’t see a thing. “P-Paul, what are you talking about?”

“You don’t s-see them?” She shook her head, and Paul’s lip started to quiver. “I wish you could. They’re so pretty.”

She smiled sadly. “What colour?”

“They’re black. And they’re so big! Where have they been all this time?”

Jim looked over at them. “We can’t see them while they’re living on him,” he replied. “Do you feel any pain at all?” Paul shook his head. “Good. Yeah, he’s fine. He says they’re there.”

Paul looked down at Mike, still holding on to his arm. “I’m fine, Mike. I promise.”

“Really?” the boy asked, and Paul nodded.

“Yeah.”

Jim walked into the other room to hang up before walking back into the room with his family. “We’re gonna go see Ricky tomorrow. Paul, you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. W-what does this mean then?”

Jim glanced over at Mary, taking her hand in his own. “Paul…” he started. “You’re an angel.” A breath came out of the boy as more tears started to well up in his eyes. “I’m not sure exactly what that means, but I suppose we’ll find out, yeah?”

“I wish you could s-see them,” he cried, looking back over his shoulder as they curled up. “I’ve never felt so… sad before.”

Mary smiled at him. “Paul, if you can see them, that’s enough to make me happy. I love you, sweetie. So much.”

He smiled, pulling a single feather from his wings. It became visible to the other members in his family as he handed it to his mother. She glanced down at it until the darkness of it disappeared into thin air.

“I love you, too, Mum.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would’ve posted this yesterday but I didn’t have service. Sorry :/ anyway, enjoy

John sat back on the couch after hearing Paul’s story. “I never heard that before. Those wings must have meant a lot to you.”

Paul nodded. “Yeah, they did. My mum, she was always telling me funny little stories about them that she made up. That was until…” He trailed off, sniffling.

“Paul, we can get them back for you.” He shook his head. 

“We really shouldn’t. There’s a reason I lost them, John, and I know that I’ll just lose them again.”

“Maybe we can--”

“John, please. I’ve told you to drop this, you could at least listen to me.” He looked back at the telly, nodding stiffly.

“No, you’re right. It’s not my place.”

Suddenly, a sneeze erupted from Paul, and he jumped a bit. “Shit, was that a sneeze?”

“Er… yeah.”

Another sneeze. “Oh, god. What did I do?”

“I don’t think it was anything you did, Paul. Sometimes, you just sneeze.”

Paul smiled. “I feel so open now,” he said brightly, and John nodded. “Hey, are we going to just sit inside all week, or can we do something fun?”

“Well, erm, sure. What do you want to do?”

“I don’t know. Maybe something with the others.” John was a bit surprised, but he still got on board with the idea. “Have anything in mind?”

“I dunno,” John mumbled, gazing off into the distance.

“You okay? You seem strange.”

John snapped out of his trance. “Oh, no, no, I’m fine. I was just thinking.”

“About what?” John said nothing in reply. “If you’re still thinking about me getting my wings back--”

“I’m not,” he lied, but he knew that Paul could see right through him. “But if I was… why can’t you just tell me why you lost them?”

“It’s not that simple. A long story.”

“I’ve got time.” John threw his hands up in the air, portraying all of his pent up annoyance. “I mean, you’re acting like I’m a child who’s not going to understand at all.”

“John,” the angel said carefully. “I really don’t know what you’ll understand. And I’m being very careful about all of it.”

“Wh-- why?”

“If I’m not careful, I might lose you for it.” John wanted so bad to be angry with him for that, but when he looked at his friend, he saw that the man was really worried.

“You know you’ll never lose me, right?”

“No,” Paul whispered. “I don’t.”

-

“Georgie, please! He really wants the four of us to do something together.” John started tapping his finger impatiently against the wall he was leaned up onto.

“John, I’m sure he does, but Pattie and I--”

“George!” John shouted into the telephone. “Seriously. He’s been through some really bad stuff lately, and all he wants is one day. I mean, he got you off for the entire week, the least you could do--”

“Bye, John.” George had hung up before John could even say anything else, and he hung the phone back on the wall, sighing just as Paul skipped into the room.

“Is everything alright, John?”

John glared at him but forced a smile anyway. “Dandy. Hey, I was thinking that maybe we could go out to the park. Just you and me.”

“Oh,” Paul replied. “We could invite George and Richie…”

John sighed again. “I already called them. Richie’s watching the telly, and George is doing something with Pattie.”

“Oh,” Paul said, sounding rather disappointed. “He’d rather watch the telly than spend time with us?” The bassist huffed. “You know what, fine. We’re going to have the best day ever, and they’re never going to get to have that memory with them.”

A smile played across John’s features, glad that Paul wasn’t going to let the rejection ruin his day at all. “But Paul… it’s already five.”

“So what? What’s open on Wednesday night?” Paul looked over at his friend, who just laughed. “What is it?”

“They have karaoke at the bowling alley down the road on Wednesdays…” Paul smiled widely.

“Do they really?”

John just nodded. “They do. But they close at eight, so we better go get ready to go.”

“Oh, we’re on. Let’s go sing some songs!” He started running for the door, but John didn’t move, laughing at him. “What now?”

“Paul… you’ve been wearing the same clothes for a few days… and you haven’t even washed your hair yet.”

“Why? Do I need to?” He put a hand up to his greasy, black hair as his friend rolled his eyes.

“Yes, Paul. Yes, you’re filthy. Haven’t you got any other clothes, too?” Paul shook his head slowly. “What?! Why not?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t change. I never really had a reason to…”

“Well, I hate to say it, but you smell horrible, so go have a shower and I’ll find you some new clothes. Maybe we ought to go shopping instead of karaoke.”

“That can’t be as fun.”

“Sure, it can! So that settles it, then. We’re shopping tonight.”

“Are the stores even still open?”

“I’m sure the thrift stores are,” John replied with a smirk, seeing Paul’s worried expression. “We’ll find you some fun stuff. Don’t worry.”

-

Paul looked down at the jeans on his legs, letting out a breathy sigh. “I don’t know, John,” he said past the thick wooden door between them.

“They can’t be that bad,” the older man replied. “Come on out and let me see them.”

“John… can’t I just get some more dress pants like the ones I always wear?”

“No, they’re three times more expensive than all the jeans. Just open the door. I want to see them.”

The big door squeaked open, and immediately, John gasped, making Paul nervous. “That bad?”

“Wh-- no! They look great on you, Paul! Really!” And he wasn’t lying. The way the denim fell down past Paul’s ankles made his legs look really good. And they were much more laid back than his dress pants. “The lads are gonna love them!”

“What do you mean? I don’t have any money on me…”

“Paul, I can buy them for you. They’re only ten pounds. Really.” Paul looked down at them again.

“You really think they look okay?”

“They look lovely,” John whispered. “Get out of them, and then we’ll find you some more clothes to try on. You’ll need more than just a pair of pants.”

“No, John. I’m not gonna have you buy all my food and my clothes.”

“You’re gonna let me do whatever I want, Paul. And if you don’t, I’m just gonna buy it all and give it to you as a gift, anyway.”

Paul sighed and slipped back into the dressing room.

By the time he had picked out a bunch of clothes, it was already around closing time and was getting dark outside. He set all of the clothes down on the counter, and the two of them waited while the cashier rang them all up.

“You sure about this, Johnny?”

“Yup,” John replied without a second's hesitation

“I just feel bad. I’ll pay you back, but I need my wallet. Can we stop at my place on the way back?”

“Sure, we can. But I won’t accept your money back.”

Paul sighed and looked back at the lady, who had finished with the calculating. “That’ll be £234.45,” she said, probably annoyed that she couldn’t go home yet.

“John…” Paul breathed, but the other man didn’t seem to want to listen to what he had to say.

He handed over his card, much to Paul’s horror, and he watched as the lady scanned it and began the transaction.

“Johnny… you really don’t have to do this.”

John, once again, just ignored him. The lady handed him back his card and started to bag the clothes, handing them over to John, who accepted them with a smile.

When they were out of the building, he handed them over to Paul. “Congratulations, Macca. You’re now a normal human with clothes.”

“I feel bad. That was a lot of money.”

“Oh, hush. You’re worth way more than that. Trust me.” He popped open his trunk and let Paul throw the clothes into it. “You ready to head home, then? We can stop by your place if you need.”

“Alright.” Paul closed the trunk back and got into the passenger seat. When John got in next to him and cranked the car up, he couldn’t keep his eyes off of him. “Hey, John, do you think I could tell you something?”

“Sure, what is it?”

Paul took a deep breath. “Well, it’d be easier if I just showed you.” John cocked a brow but looked over at Paul.

“Alright?”

Suddenly, the younger man leaned over the centre console and pressed his soft angel lips up against John’s chapped ones, and for a second, John didn’t even push him away.

But then he did, gently with his hands. “Paul, what are you doing?” His voice was soft, not angry.

And with another deep breath, the angel spoke. “I think I figured out love.”


	9. Chapter 9

The entire ride home, John said nothing, even when they stopped at Paul’s house. And for a few minutes at home, he said nothing, too. Until it rolled around time for him to go to bed. And he walked into Paul’s room, where he saw the angel sitting up in his bed. 

“You gonna be alright getting to sleep tonight?” he asked, and Paul just shrugged. “Do you want me to get you another pill? I’d be more than happy—“

“No, thanks,” Paul responded, knowing fair and well that the last one didn’t even work on him. He didn’t want to waste them. 

“Well, they’re in the blue bottle in the medicine cabinet if you change your mind. Just take one.” He started to leave but then peeked his head in again. “Can I talk to you a minute?”

“Erm, yeah, sure. Look, I’m sorry about what happened in the car. I don’t know what got into me.”

“No, it’s alright. I just… is there a reason you did that? Or have you never done it and just wanted to know what it was like or…?”

“Well, that, too but…” The angel looked down at his hands. “I really liked it. If you didn’t, it’s fine. But I really did, and I was thinking that I’d like to do it again.” John stared at him strangely. “I know we really shouldn’t. But I do like you.”

“You are so funny, Paul. You know that?” He laughed a bit. 

“I-I guess so, but…”

“Get some sleep, Macca. Night.” Paul said nothing back, and it didn’t seem as if John was waiting for him to, either. 

He sat alone in his bed and stared at the wall, just as he had the night before. His eyes burned, but he couldn’t get them closed. He tried laying down in the bed, but his brain was way too busy for him to just sleep.

He got up and started on his way to the kitchen. So many emotions hit him from the day he’d just lived through. He had really kissed John, and that definitely wasn’t something he wanted to happen. Because now John was upset with him. 

But as he made his way out of his room, tears already rolling down his cheeks, he bumped into John.

“Oh! Paul, you don’t have to cry. It’s really fine. I’m not mad or anything. Just kind of surprised if that makes sense.”

“No, John, no. I’m not crying about that,” he lied, wiping at his eyes. “I was just hungry.”

“You’re… crying because you’re hungry?”

He nodded. “Yeah, can I just get by you and get something to eat.” John nodded, and Paul held his breath as he slipped by.

~

~Years Earlier~

“Paul, I really think you ought to just get a warmer jacket,” John laughed at his shivering friend.

“I’m really not cold,” the angel replied, and he wasn’t lying. “I mean, I don’t feel cold.”

“Oh, bullshit. You’re shivering.” He took off his own jacket and draped it over the younger boy’s shoulders. “There. Do you feel a little bit warmer now?”

Paul nodded, not wanting to continue to argue. “Where are we going?”

“Record shop.”

“But we don’t have any money.”

John smirked. “We’ve got pockets, no?” Paul sighed. John was always looking for trouble, no matter what it was.

“Alright, but it better be good music.”

He followed his friend down the street to the shop they’d visited many times before, and he watched as John shoved singles into his jacket pockets, not even bothering to try to do so himself. He’d probably end up caught, anyway.

As soon as they were out of the store, John looked over at him with a grin as wide as his face. “I got some Elvis!” he exclaimed, pulling it out of his pocket and throwing it like a frisbee over to Paul.

“God, that’s great, John!” The two of them looked up at each other and then straight ahead, and they both saw the angry man walking right towards them.

“Give me that!” he shouted as he reached for John’s watch. He’d just gotten it from his mother the previous week, so of course, he hid his hand behind his back.

“What? No!” He grabbed onto Paul’s wrist and started to run off with him. They ran all the way back past the record store and down a couple of alleys before they reached a fence. No way they were getting over that, but John tried anyway. As he started to climb, though, a hand pulled at his ankle, yanking him back to the ground. Paul scooted away, watching carefully.

“Let go of me!” John shouted. “Let me go! No, it’s mine!” John pulled his hand away again, and that’s when the man pulled out a knife from his jacket. John screamed.

“If you don’t shut up, I’ll kill you and your friend right now. Hand over the watch.” John still shook his head, and when he hid his hand behind his back again, the man stabbed the blade right through John’s stomach.

He pulled it out and stole the watch, running out of the alley just as Paul ran out to John, kneeling down beside him. “Oh, god, Johnny.”

“Paul, you’ve got to get someone! Please! I’m gonna die here!” 

“No,” Paul whispered. “I won’t let you die.”

When Paul started to pull off his shirt, John squirmed. “Paul, you’re not a doctor! Please just go get somebody.” Tears were streaming down his face as he tried to deal with the amount of pain radiating from his stomach.

“John, trust me.” After he had peeled back the many layers of shirt, he put his hand over his friend’s abdomen, and before either of them knew it, the deep cut had healed itself back. John sat up in shock.

“What the hell did you do to me?” He checked his stomach over and over again, trying to find the cut.

“I saved you, John.”

John looked up at him with wide eyes. “... how?”

Paul just shook his head, helping his friend up and handing him his jacket back. “I’m sorry about your watch. I would’ve helped you, but I can’t heal myself.”

“Paul McCartney, you just resealed a knife wound. What aren’t you telling me?”

Paul looked down at John’s shirt. “Let’s get you to my house, and I can get you a new shirt. I think Mimi might question why yours is bloody with a hole in it.” 

The entire walk back, neither of them said a thing, but John began shaking out of fear. When they were finally back at Paul’s place, he opened the door.

“Dad,” he called, and Jim walked into the room.

“Hey, did you have fun?” He nodded and then pulled John’s jacket off for him. Jim knew what he was looking at immediately and rushed to pull the shirt up. “Paul, you know you’re not supposed to just use your powers!”

Paul huffed, falling onto the couch. “I didn’t have a choice! He was in pain!” Jim glanced over at John, who was still white as a ghost. “I’m going to get him a shirt. John, come with me?”

The boy said nothing still, following Paul up the stairs and into his room. As he started digging through his drawers, he spoke.

“So, I wasn’t exactly planning on you finding out this way, but… I suppose I’ll have to explain what’s going on.”

“What the fuck are you?” John breathed, much too nervous to settle down.

“I’m an angel, John.” The look he was getting from his friend when he turned around to throw him the shirt was enough to know John didn’t believe him. “You don’t have to believe me if you don’t want to. But it’s very true. And you can’t tell anybody else, okay?”

“W-why not?”

“There are… some people that have this idea that they can use me to talk to god--”

“You can talk to god?!” John sat down on the bed to steady himself. “God is real?”

“It’s not the god you’ve probably heard of. But yes, essentially.” As the older boy started to mumble things to himself, Paul sat next to him. “Can you promise me that you’ll never tell anybody?”

“And this isn’t some stupid prank? You didn’t just hire some guy to fake stab me?”

Paul’s face remained stoic. “Why would I do that?”

“Y-you’re right. That’s stupid. I won’t tell anybody. I swear.” He started to pull his shirt off. “But c-can I ask you something?”

Paul’s gaze softened. “Of course.”

“Do you have… wings?” Paul nodded gently, and John smiled. “That’s so cool, mate.” John started to say more things to himself, and after he had finished changing, he handed his bloodied shirt to his friend. “What should I…?”

“I can take it for you. Probably throw it away. Does the shirt fit okay?” He looked over at the light blue t-shirt that John had fit over his head.

“Yeah, great. Thanks for it. I’ll return it tomorrow at school.”

“No need. You can keep it. It looks nice on you.”

John chuckled. “Oh, alright.” He hesitantly stood up from the bed. “I guess I should be heading home now. Don’t want aunt Mimi being too worried.”

Paul nodded in agreement. “Yeah. I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

“Tomorrow it is.” And John ran out of the room.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So my friend was trying to see how much it'd cost for me to fly to India to see him, and it's about 1800, so I'm about 1800 short :( Progress

The next morning, Paul walked into the kitchen like a complete zombie, eyes bloodshot. He hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep that night, either, and he was starting to get worried. But he was glad John didn’t say anything about how horrible he looked.

“Morning sunshine,” he joked, but when he saw Paul, his smile faded. “God, what happened to you?”

“Can’t sleep,” Paul replied, and John’s expression changed.

“Oh, god. You could have come to get me last night. Could you not find the pills, then?”

As soon as John started towards the medicine cabinet, Paul stopped him. “I wasn’t looking. They didn’t work on Tuesday, so I figured it must be something wrong with me. Maybe they’re a placebo or something, but--”

“What do you mean they didn’t work? Did you get any sleep at all?” Paul shrugged, and John scoffed. “When was the last time you slept, Macca?”

“I think Monday…”

“Fuck, it’s Thursday!” When he saw the way Paul flinched away from him, he did his best to take a deep breath. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want you to be worried.” John sighed putting his arm around Paul. “I didn’t want to be a burden.”

“Paul, do you know how long you’ve stuck by my side even though I was definitely being a burden on you?” The angel shrugged. “Well, you have.”

“I must be a lot worse. I’m like a toddler. The only difference is that I can talk properly.”

John laughed a bit, but shook his head anyway. “No, Paulie, no. You are not a toddler. You’re my friend, and it’s perfectly fine to be a burden. I don’t mind helping you get better, no matter how difficult it is.”

“I love you, John,” he said quietly, and John shifted uncomfortably. “As a friend, John.”

“Oh. Well, you, too. Let’s take it easy today. I’ll order some pizza, and I’m going to make sure you get to sleep tonight, okay?”

“Yeah, fine.” He sat down at the bar. “Have you eaten your breakfast yet?” John nodded, but the way he avoided eye contact told Paul that he was definitely lying. “No, you haven’t.”

“Paul, I’m not hungry, okay?” His stomach grumbled.

“John Lennon! Is this still about the fat Beatle comment? Because if it is, and you still haven’t told Brian about it…” John eyed him. “Don’t you dare kick me out of this house again. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Paul, please just drop it.”

“Fine. I’ll drop it if you eat whenever you’re hungry. I don’t care what you eat as long as you eat.” John nodded with a huff.

“Alright, deal.” 

“Alright. Can I make you toast?” He smirked.

“Go ahead, Macca.”

-

John sat with his legs propped over the back of the couch as he stared at Paul sitting in the chair opposite him. An empty bottle of wine sat on the table, none of it drinken by the angel.

“Paul, can I ask you a question?”

“You just did,” he replied blankly, and John cracked up. He pointed his finger up at the man, shaking it a few times.

“You’re funny. I’m glad I found you. But seriously, though. Why did you kiss me?” Paul froze, not knowing what to say. “Was it because of my lovely lips? Well, you’ve got some lovely lips, too.”

“John…”

“No, I’m serious! They’re like a bird’s lips.” He squinted his eyes. “Oh, no, no!” He spun himself around and yanked Paul’s fingers away from his mouth. “You’re going to hurt them!” He looked back at the angel’s lips and pouted. “Now they’re bleeding.”

“Johnny, they’re just lips.”

“No. They’re Macca’s lips. I’ve been staring at them for years. And they’ve always looked the same, but you have been picking at them this week, and it’s making them bleed. Are you nervous about something?”

“I’m not nervous about anything,” Paul lied.

“Then you’ll tell me why you kissed me?” John put his hand up to his mouth rubbing his index finger back and forth on his freshly wet lips.

“I don’t want to, John. You know that.” John cocked his head to the side with pleading eyes, and Paul knew he wasn’t going to give up. “It’s really nothing. I don’t know what came over me.”

“No, it’s not that simple, is it?” As drunk as he was, he sounded bloody smart.

The younger man looked up at the ceiling. Could it really hurt to tell him when he was like this? Would he even remember it anyway? “John, as an angel, there was only one emotion I could feel. Love.”

“What? Why?”

“It comes from knowing something or someone, from a completely different part of the brain. All of the other emotions, they’re more attached to feelings, you know?”

“What are you even talking about, Paul? English please?” He shivered while waiting.

Paul rolled his eyes with a laugh. “It doesn’t matter. It’s just… you were the first person I ever had a real feeling towards. Like I didn’t ever want to leave you because I was afraid you’d get hurt, and I wouldn’t be there to patch you back up.”

“What about now? Now that you have all of your feelings?” Paul sighed, but John waited patiently for an answer.

“It’s just worse. It’s so much worse. I’m constantly watching out for you, because I know--” He cut himself off before he said more.

“You know what?” the older of the two asked more out of curiosity than anything. It made relief flood through Paul, now knowing he hadn’t made a big mistake.

“Nothing.”

It was silent for a few seconds until John broke it, back on his other topic of conversation. “You know I kissed you back, right?”

Paul stared at his friend. “What do you mean?”

“When you kissed me the other night, I really liked it. And I just felt like if it was you being confused about all your new emotions and I told you that I liked it, you’d be weirded out.”

“John, I wouldn’t be weirded out by you. No matter what. Hell, I don’t even know how to be weirded out at something.”

For some reason, that made the man burst into laughter. “God, you really don’t know a thing about being a human, Paul. You are going to have a rough life, my friend. A very rough life. Unless we can get your wings back. And you and me, we can live happily ever after.”

Paul didn’t know how to respond to his drunken friend’s ramblings, so he just smiled at him. “Maybe we should get some sleep--”

“Yes! I’m sleeping in your bed tonight, because I need to make sure that you’re getting your beauty sleep. We can’t have you going grey too early and ruin that pretty hair of yours.”

The angel helped him up and into his bedroom. After he’d gotten in the bed, John snuggled up next to him. “You should put on some pyjamas, Paulie.”

“You should, too,” he came back with.

“Nah, too tired. Besides, you’ll be much more comfortable in pyjamas than these new jeans of yours. You deserve a peaceful sleep.”

“Okay, I’ll put on some pyjamas.” He stood from the bed and started to undress, causing the man on the bed to giggle. “What’s so funny?”

“You’re so pale!”

“Oh, sod off! We live in London for God’s sake.”

“Does he approve of you using his name in vain like that?”

“What?”

“God,” John clarified. “I remember you telling me once that you talk to him. Does he approve of you using his name in vain?”

“John… God’s not a he…” The man’s jaw dropped.

“Oh, my god! Is God a she? Does she have big breasts?!”

Paul choked. “Wh--? No! No, they’re not a she, either. They’re more of a… just a feeling really. They don’t have a physical appearance you can see. You just hear them.”

“That’s some trippy shit. You sure you weren’t just really high as a kid?”

“I didn’t eat for over two decades. I don’t think I was just high.” He slipped on his pyjama pants and got back into the bed.

“You gonna be able to sleep alright tonight?” Paul nodded.

“I sure hope so. Maybe I’ll be able to drift off with you here.” John grinned. “Goodnight, Johnny.”

The drunken man beside him sighed before turning on his side and kissing Paul right on the lips. “Goodnight, Macca. I love you.”

The angel smiled. “Sure you do.”


	11. Chapter 11

Paul’s eyes opened, head turning over to meet John staring at him. “What happened?” he managed out.

“You slept for the first time all week, Paul. Are you feeling better?”

The angel rubbed at his foggy eyes, gaining just a bit of vision back. “I’m alright. Still pretty tired, though.”

“Well, let’s get you up. It’s past noon.” John threw his hands behind his neck as he stretched and then got out of the bed. Paul followed, and the two of them made their way to the kitchen. “You know, I kind of remember what happened last night,” John said shakily, and Paul tensed.

“John…”

“Relax. I don’t remember what we talked about but I know we were in the living room… I think.” He laughed, and the doorbell rang. “Oh! I’ll get it. Probably George and Richie.”

Paul watched as he left the room and started to make his own toast, but just as he had the bread out, he heard gunshots and a scream. Without hesitation, he ran out of the kitchen and found John’s lifeless body on the floor, a man dressed in black standing above him.

“Hello, Paul McCartney.” When he looked up at the man, the face was oddly familiar. “I heard that you lost your wings.” He stepped a bit closer as the man’s heart started to pound in his chest. 

“What have you done? John! John, are you okay!?”

“Your friend is dead. And with you now human, you’ll be much easier to kill, too.” He raised the gun and pulled the trigger. 

~

Paul shot up in the bed, breath coming out in short gasps, and John had a hand on him in seconds.

“Whoa, whoa, you alright, then?” The angel shook his head before leaning over and hugging the other man. “Did you have a nightmare or something?”

“Y-yeah…”

“You were yelling my name,” John said quietly. “D-did something bad happen?” Paul nodded. “Oh, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

“Well, let’s get you up. It’s past noon.” John started out of the bed, but the bassist didn’t move. Hadn’t dream John said that exact thing? “What? Don’t you want brekkie?”

“N-no, yeah. Let’s go get breakfast.” He got up and followed his friend into the kitchen.

“You know, I kind of remember what happened last night.”

“You w-what?”

John laughed at how nervous the younger man looked. “Relax. I don’t remember what we talked about but I know we were in the living room… I think.” By this point, Paul was freaking out, which is not the relief John was hoping for. “What’s the matter with you?”

“N-nothing, I just--” He was interrupted by the ring of a doorbell, and he started to absolutely shake.

“I’ll get it. Probably George and Richie.”

“No!” Paul grabbed onto John’s wrist and tried to pull him towards the back of the house. “John, no, you can’t! We have to run! We have to leave here!”

“W-why?”

“John, in my dream…” He took a breath to calm himself. “In my dream, this exact thing happened, and the man at the door shot you!”

“Okay, let me just check who it is, okay? If it’s George or Richie, I think we’re fine.” He kept Paul hanging onto his arm as he checked out the peephole in the door and swung it open. George stood with crossed arms.

“What took you so bloody long?” He looked Paul up and down. “Why isn’t he dressed? I thought we were eating lunch out.”

“We are?” Paul asked, glancing at John.

“Er, yeah. I remember you said you wanted all four of us to do something, and I felt bad that they were both busy, so I made plans to go out.”

The angel smiled. “Oh, that’s so sweet, John. I’ll go get dressed.” As soon as Paul had left, George glared at John.

“What’s wrong with him?”

John just shook his head. “Apparently, he had a dream that I got shot or something.” The young guitarist’s eyes widened.

“Oh, god. Didn’t you say he had something else going on, too? Have you figured that out yet?”

“No,” John lied. “He’s doing better, though. He’ll definitely be ready to record more on Monday.” He glanced behind him to make sure Paul was gone from view. “Where’s Richie?”

“I picked him up already. He’s waiting in the car.”

John bit his lip. “I’ve got to tell you something…”

Then Paul ran into the room, clad in some of his new clothes. “Oh, that’s new!” George exclaimed with a smile. “Looks good on you.” 

“Oh, thanks, Georgie. Where exactly are we going?” He looked over at John, who just smiled.

“Well, you seemed pretty excited about karaoke, so I thought…”

“Oh, god,” Paul laughed. “This should be fun.”

-

Fun was a bit of an overstatement. The second their food hit the table, Paul practically dove into it. Devouring everything in his sight. It was quite amusing for the other three of them, especially George and Ringo, who had never actually seen Paul eat at all.

“John, c-can we sing?” John glanced nervously at the stage on the other side of the joint.

“I dunno, Paul. I’m not really feeling it.”

“Oh, come on! Wouldn’t it be fun to sing one of our songs?”

“Maybe George or Richie will go up there with you. I’m gonna sit this one out.”

“I will,” Ringo said with a smile, and Paul smiled right back. Without another word, he was up and out of his seat. Ringo followed him.

“Oh, god. We’re gonna have to listen to that,” George laughed.

“I’m sure we’ll be alright.” Then he glanced at the table. “Can I talk to you about something?”

“Oh, er, yeah, of course!” John took a deep breath. “What’s wrong? Is it about Paul?”

“Well, I guess so, but he’s fine.” The younger man stared at him until he continued to speak. “Have you ever kissed a bloke before?”

The guitarist seemed a bit taken back. “Excuse me?”

“It’s a simple fucking question, Geo. Yes or no?” George shook his head. 

“No. Why? H-have you?” A nod. “Wh-- really? Who? Do I know him?”

“George, I don’t think it matters. I just… I liked it, and I don’t know what to do about it.”

George’s jaw dropped, but then a smile formed on his face. “Oh, it was Paul, wasn’t it? He’s been staying at your house all week!”

“N-no, it wasn’t. And he’s only staying there because of whatever happened to him.”

“Yeah, but you’re totally in love with him! And you kissed him?!” George had started to get very loud, and John nervously glanced around them to make sure nobody was looking over there.

“Okay, now you can quiet down a bit, and I’ll bloody talk to you. Just shut up!” 

George covered his mouth for a second. “So, does he know? I mean did he kiss you? Or did you kiss him or--?”

“Geo, I… well, he kissed me, but--”

“Oh, my God!” George shouted, and John reached over the table to slap him.

“Shut the fuck up, George!”

“Sorry,” he said a bit quieter. “Sorry, it’s just… so you like him and he likes you, and you haven’t even talked to him about it?”

“Well, I told him it was okay that he kissed me… he was kind of upset about it.”

“You can’t be serious,” George laughed. “Did you not tell him that you bloody liked it?!” John shook his head slowly.

“Should I have?”

“Should you have?! John, tell him! You’ve got to! He probably hates himself, thinking he made you uncomfortable or something.”

Then they heard a microphone boom. “Hello, ladies and gentlemen,” Paul said with a smile. “Today… we’ll be singing ‘I Want To Hold Your Hand.’ Who’s that by, Richie?”

“Erm.. the Beatles?” he joked.

“Oh, right! Yes, shall we st--” He stopped abruptly, and Ringo backed away from his mic.

“You alright, then?” He shook his head, running off the stage. With an incredulous look, Ringo ran after him, all the way back to the table, where Paul had clung onto John, crying.

“Hey, hey, what’s up? You alright?”

“I think I’m gonna be sick,” Paul muttered, and John got up, leading him to the toilets in the back.

“You’re okay,” he whispered to the younger man as he grabbed on tightly to John’s arm. After getting Paul to the biggest stall and closing the door, he took a breath. They were finally out of view of everybody else. “You’re okay, Macca,” he repeated. “I’m right here. Do what you need to do.”

The bassist caught his breath and then started to retch. John winced and looked away as he heard the vomit hitting the toilet bowl, but he kept his hand on Paul’s back, rubbing it soothingly.

“Johnny,” he whispered, vomiting again.

“It’s okay, Paul. We’ll get you home after this.”

“N-no, John… it’s…” As the younger man fixated on whatever was in the toilet, John turned his head to see a bright blue light almost, and he gasped.

“What the hell is that, Paul?”

“That’s… that’s what happened when I had my wings and whenever I ate. My… stomach isn’t digesting the food, John. I can’t eat…”


	12. Chapter 12

“I can’t eat…”

John’s eyes widened. “Shit, Paul. Shit, so… is this like a temporary thing or…?”

“I don’t bloody know! I’ve never been human before, John!” He pulled himself away from the toilet, sobbing and covering his mouth. “What am I gonna do?” he sniffled. “I’m going to die if I can’t eat.”

“Is there anybody who would know about any of this?” Paul looked up at the ceiling to keep his tears at bay, and John saw the look on his face. “Who is it?”

“Ricky…”

-

“I’m sorry, what?” George got up as John led Paul away from the table.

“We have to leave now. Are you coming or not?”

“Well, I don’t have a choice, do I?” the younger man countered. “You’re stealing my car!”

“Great! So hurry up and get your things. We’re leaving. Now.”

Ringo didn’t say a thing as John and Paul sped walked all the way out of the door and into the backseat of George’s car. He got in the passenger seat and George showed up with a scowl.

“I’ve got to drive, too? How far is it that we’re going?”

John looked at Paul, who just whispered, “Liverpool.”

George scoffed, turning around to see him. “You know what? No. No, I’m not driving you to Liverpool. That’s four bloody hours!”

“George, he’s dying!” John shouted with a scowl.

“Excuse me?!” When he looked over at Paul with confusion, he saw that the man looked fine. “Paul, are you dying?” he joked.

“I think so.”

“Alright, well, I doubt he’s actually dying, but if he is, we’ve got to go to a hospital.” Ringo turned around and eyed the two in the back seat.

“Why the hell do you think you’re dying?”

“He… well, it’s kind of hard to explain. He can’t eat.”

George rolled his eyes. “He’s probably got a stomach bug, you dumb arses. I’ll take you back to John’s place, and you can just sleep it off. Maybe get over it by Mon--”

“No!” Paul shouted nervously. “No, George, you’ve just got to trust me when I say that I’m not okay, and I need to meet somebody in Liverpool. Please.”

His voice cracked when he said his last word, and George sighed. “I swear to god, I hope this isn’t a joke, because I’m about to use up a lot of money in petrol.” He started the car and took off out of the parking lot.

-

“Richie!” George yelled. “Left or right?! You’ve got to bloody tell me!” He glanced around at the cars around him, growling at them.

“I’m trying to figure out… left! Looks like it leads to the highway.”

“Wait!” John called from the backseat. “Go right then.”

Ringo looked at him. “You don’t want to get on the highway?”

“Not yet. I have to piss.” The guitarist in the front seat rolled his eyes and put his blinker on to turn right. “Thank you, Geo,” John replied to the turn signal with sarcasm thick in his voice.

The light turned green and George turned into the closest petrol station, stopping so that John could get out. Ringo followed him, and Paul sat awkwardly in the back until George turned and looked him dead in the eye.

“You think you’re dying?”

“Yeah,” he said, ashamed.

“Something really has gotten into you. And you’ve got John all ravelled up in it, too.” Paul only shook his head. “Why do you even think you’re dying? Have you been sick a while?”

“It’s really not something I can just explain. I really doubt you’d even believe me.”

The younger man shrugged. “Maybe I will.” Paul looked back out of the window, waiting for John to return, and George noticed that he wasn’t planning on saying a thing. “Oh, come on, Paul. You owe me this. I’m driving you to bloody Liverpool for it! Least you could do is tell me what the hell is wrong with you.”

“It’s no use. You’ll only laugh at me, and then I’ll regret telling you. And then you’ll laugh some more.”

“If I promise not to laugh? No matter how stupid it is.”

“Fine. I’m not joking or anything, but… I’m an angel. And on Sunday, I lost my wings and became human. And now something’s wrong with me, and I don’t know what. So you’re driving me to Liverpool, because the only person I know that has any clue about all of this stuff lives there.”

George smiled, resisting the urge to start laughing after he promised his friend he wouldn’t. “No, you’re right. That sounds crazy. W-what’s the real reason?” Paul bit his lip, looking back out the window. “God, you’re serious?”

“Yes, of course I’m serious. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Wow.” Then, Paul saw Ringo and John leave the station and let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. “Does John know? Well, I guess he must if he’s so hell bent on you getting to Liverpool.”

“Yes, he knows. He’s known for a while, actually.”

“What? And you just didn’t want to tell me or something? God, I must be a pretty bad friend, huh?”

Paul looked over at him to see that the man was being serious, not joking at all. “What? No, of course not, George. I didn’t really want him to find out. He got stabbed one day, and I had no choice but to heal him. You know how expensive hospitals are.”

“He got stabbed?!” His shocked expression then softened. “Aww, you’re his knight in shining armour.”

“No,” Paul muttered. “No, I am most definitely not.”

“His guardian angel, though?” George said, and Paul broke eye contact, looking back at John and Ringo, who were opening the car doors now. “Ready to go, then?”

“Yeah,” John muttered, seeing the worried look on the angel’s face. “You alright, Paul?”

“George knows,” he replied, grabbing Ringo’s attention as John’s eyes widened.

“Ah.”

“Knows what?” Ringo asked innocently, and the bassist glanced over at him. Ringo realised how uncomfortable he looked. “Oh, nevermind. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

“I feel like he ought to know,” John said. “I mean, now that George knows, it’d be pretty weird to be the only one in the car who doesn’t.”

Paul closed his eyes. “You can tell him. I’ve been ridiculed enough for one day.”

“George, what did you do to him?” John asked angrily, glaring at the younger man.

“I didn’t do a thing. I just thought he was joking at first.”

“I told you I wasn’t!” Paul snapped.

“People that are joking usually say things like that, though!”

“What are you lot even talking about?!” Ringo shouted.

“Paul’s an angel!” George shouted. “I mean, excuse me for not believing you the first time you said it! It sounds like a bloody joke!”

“He’s a what?” Ringo scanned his eyes over to Paul. “You’re an angel?”

“Yes,” he replied, ignoring George’s angry shouts. “Go ahead and laugh now. I’ll wait.”

“I’m not laughing!”

John sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Geo, shut the hell up! Nobody wants to listen to you yell at yourself.”

“I’m not yelling at myself--”

“Did I not just say to shut up?!” His loud eruption silenced everybody in the car, and Paul crossed his arms over his chest, a single tear rolling down his cheek.

“Can we just drive? I’d rather not die today.”

“You’re going to die?” Ringo asked worriedly. “God, are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he mumbled in reply. “I just don’t want to talk right now.” As George pulled away from the station, John scooted a bit closer to him.

“Paul, what’s wrong, love?”

He fought back tears as he put a hand on John’s knee, rubbing it. “I don’t want to lose you, John.” John stared at him strangely.

“What do you mean? You’re not going to lose me.”

“I will. Somebody will. And it’ll be my fault.”

“What? How could that possibly be your fault?” He hugged the younger man and wiped a tear from his face. “No matter what happens with you or with me… that’s nobody’s fault. And surely not yours.”

“You just don’t understand it, Johnny. It is my fault, and I feel absolutely horrible about it.”

John shook his head against Paul’s neck. “Look, we’re going to get you to this Ricky… and we’re going to get you all patched up. Everything is going to be fine. I promise.”

Paul smiled. “I don’t think you know what you’ve gotten yourself into, John Lennon.”

John smirked back at him. “You’re right. I don’t know what I’ve gotten myself into. But if it means that you get better, then frankly, I don’t really care what I’ve gotten myself into anyway.”


	13. Chapter 13

“Are you sure this is the place?” John asked, eyeing the old small house that sat in front of the car. 

“I really doubt it would still be here if he wasn’t, so yes.” As Paul said this, he got out of the car, and the rest of them did, too. With a shaking hand, the bassist knocked on the door, and it was open within seconds.

An old man stood a head shorter than Ringo with a peculiar glare as he took in the people in front of him.

“H-hey, I’m Paul,” he spoke gently. Maybe if he heard his name, he’d remember the boy.

“No, no, I know who you are… I just… all four of the Beatles are standing at my front door.” He nodded to himself and then spoke again. “W-why are you here?”

“He’s dying,” John responded frantically. “Can you save him?”

The man in the doorway just laughed at him. “I mean, you know he’s an angel, right? Angels don’t die.” John looked over at Paul worriedly, and Ricky caught on to his expression. “What is it?”

“I lost my wings,” the angel whispered sadly.

“Oh, my God. I’ve read about that. I didn’t think it could really happen. God, come in. All of you.” He ran inside, and the four Beatles followed. “So, there’s got to be a reason you lost them, causing you to be a human, right?” Paul nodded as the man started to rummage through one of his books. “So, what exactly is wrong with you, then? Other than the wings…”

“Well, I haven’t had my wings since Sunday, and John taught me how to eat--” George snorted.

“He taught you how to eat? That sounds so stupid!”

John glared angrily at him, taking a seat on a couch nearby and dragging Paul with him. “He would have fucking died of starvation if not, Geo! Is that so bloody stupid, then?”

“God, calm down. I was just… it sounds weird. Teaching a 23 year old how to eat.”

“Well, fuck off.” The younger guitarist threw his hands up in surrender, and Ricky looked back at Paul.

“So, what happened then? Why are you dying?”

“Remember what my vomit looked like when I used to eat?” Ricky nodded. “It looks like that again. And I’m hungry, and I can’t even eat.”

“Well, shit. Okay…” He flipped through his book, and George and Ringo finally took a seat on the couch. “So, what exactly was it that made you lose your wings? You know, right?”

“Of course,” Paul said, scooting a bit closer to John, nervous.

“So why did you?” Ringo asked curiously.

“It’s, erm, kind of complicated.” When Ricky just stared at him, waiting for an answer he shook his head. “I can’t say.”

“Paul,” John whispered. “Whatever this is, however bad it may be… it could be the only way to get your wings back.” The angel glared.

“I don’t think you understand--”

“We won’t judge you. No matter what you did--”

“I didn’t DO anything!” Paul shouted, silencing John. “Well, I didn’t mean to, anyway.” 

Then Ricky glanced over at John suspiciously. “Do you want to talk to just me, then, Paul? If it’s something you don’t want your friends to know.” Paul shook his head.

“No. I don’t want anyone to know. I just want to be able to eat. I don’t care about the bloody wings.” He scooted closer to John, sniffling.

“Alright. I’ll go find a book on it.” Ricky awkwardly left the room, and the others kept their eyes on Paul.

“Love,” John said to him. “I really don’t want you to die, and I’ll be blunt. That’s the track you’re on right now. Ricky can only help you if you open up to him.” The angel curled up into him quietly. “Paul…”

“I’m sorry.”

“What did I say about apologies?” he whispered, just loud enough that Ringo and George could hear but knew they weren’t part of the conversation.

“John… am I not allowed to be sorry? Because I am!” 

“Of course you’re allowed to! But I don’t want to always be saying your sorry for just existing.” His voice remained soft and calm, trying to soothe the frazzled angel.

“Alright, I’ll stop.”

John didn’t reply to that, and after a few seconds, George yawned. “How long have we got to stay up? It’s bloody late.”

John shrugged, and Ringo spoke up. “Are we staying here?”

“I hope so. I’m not driving you lot anywhere else tonight.” George huffed and crossed his arms, and John saw as the bassist’s leg started to shake.

“What’s wrong, Paul?” He shrugged just in time for Ricky to walk back into the room. “Macca? What’s the matter?” When he squirmed on his chair, John realised what the issue was. “Ricky? Where’s your loo?”

“Just down the hall.” John didn’t move, but he elbowed Paul in the side and urged him to get up and go. When the angel did, Ricky stared him down, only aggravating John more than he already was.

“What?” he asked, annoyed.

“Oh, n-nothing. I just… I’ve known that kid all of his life, and I’ve never seen him have to use the toilet. Just kind of strange…”

Then George started to laugh again. “So you’re telling me this entire time I’ve known him, he hasn’t once taken a leak?!”

“Well, this week he was--”

“This week has been so fucking wild,” he muttered. “Does he get horny?”

“George!” Ringo shouted.

“I mean, it’s a valid question, no?” He looked to John for answers but was only met with a glare. “Sorry, just curious…”

John dropped the topic as he repositioned himself on the couch. “Well? How do we fix him?”

“Erm, well, almost all of the ways I saw to fix him were for him to just get his wings back. Doesn’t say how, though.” He set a book down on the table in front of the couch, and John picked it up, starting to read it. “But there was one thing…”

John’s eyes shot up. “What is it?!”

“Well, it’s a long shot, but apparently there’s a way to turn him human completely.” A silence of confusion followed. “But he could never get his wings back.”

“We can’t do that. They mean so much to him--”

“How do I do it?” Paul replied, walking back into the room.

“No. No, Macca, you can’t just--”

“This is my choice, John!”

“You’ll never get your wings back, though.”

“I don’t want them back, John!” he shouted. “When will you get it through your thick skull that I don’t want my bloody wings back?! I’m tired of feeling bloody responsible for everything!”

“Responsible for what?” George asked, interrupting their argument. 

“Nothing. Are you going to tell me how I become human, Ricky?” Ricky didn’t say anything more. “If you don’t tell me, I’m leaving.”

“I’ll have to do more research, but I can tell you by morning. And I can show you the guest rooms if you want. There’s only two…”

“I call Ringo,” George said, and Paul just rolled his eyes. John picked up the book off of the table, and the four of them followed Ricky out of the room.

-

~years earlier~

Paul was sitting in tears on the floor of his bedroom when Jim walked in. When the boy glanced up at him, he could tell that he would never be the same. He had never seen him cry before. It seemed so easy for him to just forget about emotion when he didn’t need it. But now, here he was.

“Dad, I’m so sorry.”

“No, love, it’s not your fault. None of this is.” He got down on the floor next to the boy. “I-I know this is hard.” He was fighting back tears of his own.

“It is my fault, dad.” His father shook his head. “It is. I c-couldn’t save her.”

“Paul, that’s not your job--”

“But it is, though, isn’t it? Ricky said so himself! And not only have I let you down, but now mum’s gone, and… and I could’ve--”

“No!” His voice stopped Paul’s, causing the boy to look at him worriedly. “No, this is life! This is just how it is, love! Bad things happen to good people.”

“I thought she was the one. But I didn’t know how… I couldn’t…”

“Oh, love… maybe she wasn’t the one, okay?”

“And if she was? If she was, I’ve failed. I’ve disappointed you”

He put a hand up to the boy’s face, wiping a tear off of it. “No, you haven’t failed. You’ve been the sweetest son anyone could ever ask for, and I know that it must be difficult for you, going through life in such a strange way, but there’s nothing you could do to disappoint me. Nothing at all.”

Paul looked up at him. “Really?”

“Really. I love you so much.” He kissed the boy’s forehead.

“I… I love you, too, dad.”


	14. Chapter 14

When John woke up, Paul was already up and sitting on the bed. His eyelids were heavy when he turned his head to see John. Then John realised it was still dark out.

“What are you doing up?” he asked his friend. 

“Couldn’t sleep,” he replied simply.

“Didn’t want to even try?” 

“Wow, I didn’t even think of that…” He fell back onto the pillow, his stomach grumbling. “Yeah, I tried. It’s just not happening, and I’m hungry as fuck, so that’s not helping anything.”

“I read a bit more of that book last night, Paul. The one about angels…” A groan escaped the angel’s mouth. “Now, before you get super mad at me, just hear me out. I read that there’s somebody you’re destined to save from death.”

Paul rolled his eyes. “Yes, I’m aware.” He really didn’t want to get into this conversation, afraid of where it would lead them both.

“If you don’t mind my asking… w-who is it?” Paul remained quiet, and John just got more nervous. “M-Macca, please, tell me.”

“I… I thought it was my mother at first, but…” He sat and listened as his friend was brought to tears by his own memories. “John, when I met you, I knew… I just knew that it was…”

“Me?” A nod. “God, why didn’t you tell me? The whole time you’ve known me… you could’ve at least mentioned the fact that I’m supposed to die.”

“Sorry, I didn’t really see a good time to bring it up,” Paul replied sarcastically, trying his best to stop the conversation now before it went too far.

“When?”

“What?”

“When am I supposed to die?” He stared at the bassist angrily.

“I don’t kno--”

“Bullshit!!”

“Shut the fuck up! You’re going to wake everybody!” John got up off the bed and started towards the door, mumbling something under his breath. “I’m telling the truth! I don’t know when you’re going to die! I just know that I’m here to save you from it!”

“You can’t do it without your bloody wings, though, can you?”

After a long silence, the angel spoke. “Maybe you should just try to get some sleep, John.”

“You can’t! So you refusing to get your wings back means I’m gonna die! And you can’t even save me anymore!” 

“It’s not my fault!”

“I’m not saying it is! Why can’t you just get your wings back? Why can’t you just tell us why you lost them?! Tell me! I mean, of all people, I deserve to know!”

“John…” He buried his face in his hands, but the door was swinging open already, Ringo standing outside of it.

“What the hell, you two!? Why are you fighting at three in the morning?! Some of us are trying to get some bloody sleep, you know!”

“Sorry,” Paul murmured. “Things just got a little out of hand.”

“A little out of hand?!” John shouted at him before turning to the drummer. “Did you know I’m gonna die?! And this bastard isn’t doing a thing about it!”

“I’m too tired for your shit, John. Just go back to sleep. Both of you! If you wake us up again, we’re leaving your arses here.” With that, he stomped out of the room in anger, slamming the door.

“I’m so sorry, John,” Paul tried, but John just shut him down.

“Fuck you, Paul McCartney. Fuck you and your apologies.” He ran out the door, as well.

-

When the morning came and Paul started to hear others outside his room, he got up and went into the living room, trying his best not to smell the breakfast being cooked.

“Where’s your boyfriend?” George asked, and Paul blushed, mouthing the words back to himself. “Still in bed? God, he’s so lazy.”

“He left…” Ringo glanced over from the bar in shock.

“He left?! When?”

“Right after you came to talk to us.” Ricky walked into the room, sighing. He could see how worried Paul was about John being somewhere else.

“Paul? If I ask you about something, can you be real honest with me? It’s important.”

“Ricky, yeah, John is… he’s the--”

“That’s not it.” The bassist said nothing more, and the other two Beatles watched with confusion as Ricky muttered his next words. “I was up reading about this whole…” He motioned with his arm. “... situation. And I found there were only a few reasons you would lose your wings in the first place. It didn’t say much on how to get them back--”

“I already told you! I know how to get them back! I just don’t want them back!”

“Paul, are you in love?” A gasp escaped George when Paul didn’t shake his head. He remembered the conversation he and John had had the night before.

“I… well, I’ve had a girlfriend before--”

“No, Paul. I don’t think you understand.” He did understand perfectly, but there was no way he was about to come out right now. “The most common reason an angel would lose their wings is because they fell in love with somebody they shouldn’t have.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking--”

“It’s John,” George said, unable to keep himself quiet. “H-he kissed John!”

Ricky looked between George and Paul, and Ringo’s eyes widened. “You kissed him?!”

“I-I didn’t… how did you…?” He started, but not two seconds later, was running out the door, forgetting about the fact that he was starving and that John was missing. 

“Wait!” Ricky shouted. “Paul, wait! You’re going to die! We just have to get your wings back!” But the man was running much too fast to the one place he knew where to go. Home.

-

Jim picked up the phone as soon as it started to ring. After Paul and Mike both left, he didn’t get too many calls, so the ones he did get must’ve been important.

“Hello?”

“Hey, it’s Ricky.” He didn’t even need the name. After years of dealing with Paul’s strange problems, he didn’t think he could ever forget the voice. 

“What? Ricky? What are you calling for? Is everything alright?”

“I wish I could say it was, Jim, but it really isn’t. It’s Paul. He’s lost his wings, and I believe he might be on his way to your house.”

“My…? He’s back in Liverpool? I thought him and his band still lived in London.” He kept an eye out the front window, now consciously looking out for his eldest son.

“He’s nearly human now, but… something happened, and we’re not entirely sure how to fix it.”

“So he’s coming to my house why, then?”

“He ran away from here. He… well, something came up, and he wasn’t really ready to talk about it… If he stops by, please give me a call. We’re all looking out for him.”

Jim hung up the phone and hurried into the living room, where John sat on the couch. “He ran away. Paul,” he clarified.

“I’m a fucking idiot,” the younger man mumbled to himself.

“Well, Ricky thinks he might be coming here, so… he said to keep an eye out for him.” Jim sat down on the couch, seeing tears start to form in John’s eyes. “Hey, it’s gonna be fine.”

“He’s gonna die. And I’m gonna die. How is that fine?”

“He’s gonna die?”

“He can’t eat. He can’t sleep.” Jim was about to argue against him, saying that Paul had never been able to do any of those things, but then he remembered what Ricky had said about him being nearly human.

“Well, do you think he’s gonna be okay?”

“Ricky said there was a way to make him completely human. But he’d never get his wings back. I just don’t understand why he can’t just tell any of us what happened in the first place. And he says there’s a way to get his wings back, too. But he refuses to tell us how. Like he wants us both to die.”

“He loves his wings. They’re the world to him. Why wouldn’t he want them back?”

“Because he’s a selfish prick,” John spat. “All he cares about is himself. He doesn’t even care if I live or I die.”

“I’m sure there’s got to be some reason for it. You know he loves you.” John choked at the words. Had Paul told his father about what had happened between them? How long had he felt that way?

“He loves me?”

“Of course! You two are the closest friends I’ve ever seen.” John’s spirits deflated. He was thinking too much about the angel. Maybe he had caught feelings himself. “Maybe we just need to talk to him about it.”

“You don’t think I’ve tried that already?”

“You two have never been able to work out your differences. I don’t mean to fight about it. I mean to actually sit down and talk to him about it.”

“He wouldn’t.”

“You haven’t given him a chance.” Jim stood back up from the couch and went to the front room, waiting next to the window until Paul showed up.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to post this tomorrow, but I’m under an evacuation order, and I have no clue how tomorrow’s going to go or where I’m gonna be, so have it early :)

~September, 1958~

Paul sat down on his bed, a record spinning on the turntable in the corner as he stared at the ceiling. He was completely unaware of his surroundings until he heard knocks on the door, turning his head to find John with a sloppy grin plastered on his face.

He hurried over to the window and unlocked the deadbolt, flinging it open so that John could get in.

“How the hell did you…?” A shrug. “Did you just climb? There’s no ladder.”

“I have my ways,” John replied, pushing past his friend to sit down on the bed with him.

“What are you doing here? You know I’ll get in a lot of trouble if my dad sees you here.” He shut the window and started towards the record to turn it off.

“No, wait.” He stopped. “Leave it on.”

“John, seriously. I’m gonna see you at school tomorrow. You couldn’t just wait like twelve hours, then?”

But the other boy didn’t seem to be listening to him. He was busier focusing on the record in the corner. “My mum loved this one,” he whispered, and all too suddenly, Paul understood.

“John…”

“It’s not fair.”

“I know. It’s not.”

“You’re so lucky. When your mum died, you probably didn’t feel a thing. I mean, you’re an angel, for Christ’s sake.” Paul opened his mouth to reply, but John kept talking. “What’s that like? Not feeling anything?”

“I do feel things, John. It’s just different than other people do.”

“You say ‘other people’ like you are a person yourself,” he laughed, and Paul felt his heart break inside of him. He knew John was just upset, but it still hurt no less.

“John, I… I’m sorry about your mum. I really am.” When John started mumbling again, Paul had to refrain from jumping on top of him to shut him up. He was still a person. He still had bloody feelings!

“Why are you even my friend? Is it just because you wanted in my band? Is that all? Because nobody else would be your friend? Or maybe because you were tired of your brother being the only person ever around you.”

“John, I love you. That’s why I wanted to be your friend.”

“You queer! Is that it, then?”

“No, I meant… as a friend. I love you.”

John scoffed. “Why do I even come to you for comfort? You’re like a robot. No emotions or feelings. No real thoughts. Like a program. I’d be better off going over to Stu’s house.” He started to go back over to the window, but Paul stopped him, grabbed onto his wrist.

“Wait. If you want to come back… I don’t know why you would. You’re right. I’m not much of a touchy feely kind of person.”

“What’s your point?”

Paul walked over to his dresser and picked up a little piece of metal, throwing it over at John. “It’s a key to the window,” he said before John could even ask. “Sorry I’m not very good at these sorts of conversations, but I do care about you. I hope you know that, at least.”

John looked down at the key and smiled, tucking it into his pocket. “I’m actually just gonna stay here. Stu wouldn’t understand me, anyway.”

Paul couldn’t hide the smile on his own face, as well.

-

“I’m sorry. He needs a what?” George asked incredulously, jaw dropped. Ringo was seconds away from laughing. Everything had been so weird, and this was probably what was about to cross the line.

“An exorcist,” Ricky repeated. “Since he won’t tell us how to get his wings back, we’ve got to make him human. And there’s only one way to do that.”

“Where the hell are we supposed to find an exorcist, then?” Ringo asked, expecting Ricky to know the answer.

“I don’t fucking know.” Then, he started to laugh.

“You’re pretty into all this stuff, and you don’t know an exorcist?”

“Sorry,” he exasperated, falling onto the couch with a huff.

“You’ll help us find one, though, right? I mean, he’s about to die. You’re probably the only hope we have.” George looked at him like a lost puppy.

“I guess so.” He laughed nervously, running a hand through his hair. “This is so stressful. I just… yeah, I’ll find you one.”

He got up and started to look through his books when suddenly, he gasped.

“What?” Ringo said, eyes wide. “What is it?”

“I actually do know one… but…” The two Beatles raised their eyebrows.

-

“This is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.” George crossed his arms in the back of the car.

“Do you want to save your friend or not?” Ricky shot back.

“Well, of course I do. But I also don’t want to get arrested for it.” Ringo turned around to see his younger friend, completely hell bent on the whole idea.

“You sure there’s not somebody who isn’t in prison?” he asked Ricky.

“It’s just a minor setback. Really. Look, we’ll talk to him and set up some sort of way to get him out--”

“No,” George said. “No, I’ve got a nice life for myself. Before I’m even in my thirties, I won’t have to worry about money for the rest of my life. I’m not about to ruin that just so--”

“Just so Paul can stay alive?” Ringo interrupted. “I don’t agree with this anymore than you do, but Paul doesn’t deserve to just die.”

“When we’re done with him, we’ll turn him back in. It’s no big deal.” George looked out the window of the car.

“You’re right. Let’s just get this over with so I can go back home.”

“Alright. I’ll go talk to him. I’ll be back in the car soon. If I’m not, I’ve probably been arrested, so you can just leave me. I’ll still find a way out to save Paul. I promise.” George and Ringo exchanged another worried glance.

“Alright. Make it quick.” George looked back out the window at the concrete below them. This really was the dumbest thing he’d ever been a part of.

-

Paul knocked on the door of his childhood home, his stomach getting more and more insistent that he eat some kind of food, but it wasn’t too bad yet. The door opened, and he saw his dad. But instead of the confusion he expected, he was met with a smile.

“Hey, there, Paul. How are you? Come on in.”

“Erm, yeah, hey…” He did walk right in, and as soon as he did, his father’s attitude all made sense.

“John, what the fuck are you doing here?” he shouted immediately.

“I could say the same thing. You ran away from them? What? Come to say goodbye to you dear father?” He glared at John. 

“How did you even get in?” John pulled something out of his pocket and flashed it before the angel’s eyes.

“Your window. You said I was always welcome, so… well, I guess your father didn’t get the memo… he threw a fork at me! What kind of welcome do you call that?” Then, his sadness started to catch up with his sarcasm, and his eyes started to tear up. “A-are you really gonna die?”

“I don’t know, b-but… I’ve got to tell you something. Just in case…” John stood from the couch, taking a step closer to the bassist. 

“If you’re bullshitting me right now, I will punch you in the face.” Paul cringed at the concept. He wasn’t sure if he’d be able to heal from that.

“I’m not.” He then put a hand out in front of him, grabbing John’s in his own. He couldn’t believe he was about to say this in front of his father. “When I kissed you, John… when I kissed you, I wasn’t confused or curious about it or anything like that.”

“You kissed him?” Jim asked, eyebrows knitted together, but neither of the younger men were even paying attention to him.

“I wanted to. And I know you might be weirded out by that… that I’m queer or whatever…”

“N-no, Macca. Not at all. That’s… fine. All good.” He squeezed Paul’s hand.

“I just… I’m sorry. I should’ve told you this earlier. You’ve been so bloody worried about it. And now that you know you’re gonna… you’re supposed to,” he corrected himself, “die.”

“Paul, everything’s fine. I promise you. Everything is just fine.”

“Can I ask you a stupid question?” John nodded. “Would you want to kiss me?” Silence. “You don’t… you don’t have to if you don’t want to, of course. I just wanted to know before I die. Because I’ve thought about it for a long time now.”

John said nothing more, leaning towards Paul and kissing him right on the lips, and then Paul pulled away, confusing him.

“There’s something else…”

“Paul, whatever it is… I promise, everything’s fine--” As much as Paul knew that he shouldn’t even bring this up to John, he had to. He also knew it was the right thing to do. And before he could even think about his decision, the words fell out of his lips.

“You’re the reason I lost my wings.”


	16. Chapter 16

Ricky walked up to the car with a grin on his face, George and Ringo still waiting anxiously at their windows.

“God, I really don’t want to know what’s gonna come next,” Ringo murmured just as Ricky flung the driver’s door open.

“We’ve got ourselves a plan!” he shouted excitingly.

“When…?” George asked.

“Right fucking now! Well, you two stay here. He’ll be here soon.”

“He’ll be here soon?” Ringo shouted. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?!”

“He can conjure his soul to leave his body… And that’s all we need. Less likely to get arrested that way.”

“Oh, well, that makes perfect sense…” George mumbled, but before he could ask another question of Ricky, the man’s eyes turned bright blue, and he screamed. “What the fuck?!!!”

“George, what’s happening to him?!” Ringo yelled, tugging on the door handle beside him, but it wouldn’t budge.

“Ringo, unlock the car!!” George was also frantically trying to open his own door.

“W-w-w-wait,” said Ricky, eyes closing as his scream finally stopped. “I’m not Ricky.” The other two men in the car stared at him nervously. “My name is Michael-- Hey! I’ve seen you two on the telly!”

“Who are you?”

“Ricky’s friend.” He grinned. “Friend, I suppose. I wouldn’t call us that, but he’s made a deal with me.”

“What deal?” Ringo asked.

“Well, I could get in some serious trouble for doing this in there, so I said I didn’t want to leave just to float around out here. Then he said I could borrow his body to make it worth while.”

“I’m lost….”

“Can either of you drive?” They both nodded. “Well, somebody drive me to your friend so I can fix him up.” The man, Michael, got out of the car and Ringo walked around and got in the driver’s side.

“Didn’t Ricky say he might be at his old place?” George said from the back seat as Michael got in next to him.

“I think so.”

“Go there,” Michael said. “How long has he been like this?” When George looked at him in confusion, he kept talking. “Not been able to eat, I mean. Because it’ll go on like a day or two before his organs shut down.”

“His organs what?” Ringo said carefully, starting the car back up.

“Yeah, I’ve seen it before. Only once, though. Angels are pretty rare.” They all went quiet. “Let’s just get to him. Drive.”

Ringo started to drive, too scared to ask any more questions and waste any more time.

-

“You’re the reason I lost my wings.” As soon as he said it, John took a step back. His father didn’t dare say a word about what was happening.

“Excuse me?” The angel opened his mouth to speak. “No! What? That’s not true! What did I do?! Is this all my fault--?”

“No, it’s my fault! I fell in love with somebody I wasn’t supposed to…” John stared at him. “And it was--”

“Me,” John interrupted. “God, why didn’t you just tell me!? You’ve just kept this a secret? I mean, how long?” Paul shook his head. “Macca…”

“John, I’m not having this conversation right now. I came here to get away from all this shit--”

“Paul, you’re going to die! And you came to get away from it?!”

“Well, didn’t you?!” he shot back. “Why would you even want to be getting away from me when I’m about to die?”

“That’s… not what I was doing. I was mad at you, because you left me to die!”

Then, Jim spoke for the first time. “Paul, i-is John…?” The angel nodded. “God, why didn’t you say anything to anybody about it?”

“Well, sorry. I didn’t think I was gonna lose my wings! I thought he was just going to die, and I was gonna save him, and that was that.” They couldn’t even argue with him because it was the most logical argument.

“So now that we both know why you lost your wings… how do you get them back?”

“I’m not getting them back, John. We’ve established that.” Frustrated, he started back to the door. “I came to get my father in case he never saw me again, but I’m going back to Ricky’s so I can become human. John, would you like to come?”

“Sure, if I can sit passenger.”

Paul laughed. “Well, I walked, but sure.” He sighed.

“We can take my car,” Jim suggested, and John immediately ran out the door yelling, “shotgun!”

-

George, Ringo, and Michael pulled up to the house not five minutes later, getting out and running inside.

“Paul!” George shouted. “Mr. McCartney!” But there was no response. “God, they’re not even here, are they?” he sighed, turning back around and getting back into the car along with the others.

“You think they went back to Ricky’s?” Ringo supplied.

“I couldn’t imagine where else they would go.” George got back into the driver’s seat and when the others were in, as well, he started to drive.

-

By the time they were back at Ricky’s, John, Paul, and Jim were already there, the angel almost dead looking on the couch.

“Oh, my god!” George cried out when he saw the state Paul was in. “Is he okay?”

“M’fine,” Paul mumbled.”I just want to die at this point. So fucking thirsty.” John tried to hide the way his eyes started to tear up, but they noticed anyway. He scooted over to Paul and hugged him.

“You’re gonna be alright, Paulie. I promise. And where the fuck did you guys go?” He glared at Ricky, who looked away.

“W-who’s that?” the man whispered to Ringo, and John’s anger started to boil over quickly.

“Are you serious? You’re just going to pretend you don’t know who the fuck I am?” But he didn’t move away from Paul.

“John, love, don’t yell at him,” the angel pleaded.

“That’s not Ricky. It’s Michael. He’s going to turn Paul into a human.” George glanced back at Michael who waved shyly at John. “That’s John, and that’s Jim, Paul’s father.”

Michael nodded at them and made his way over to the angel, much to John’s disapproval. He wrapped a protective arm around Paul.

“John…” Paul started. “It’s okay. He’s gonna help me.”

After listening to Paul, John backed off and watched carefully as Michael got up close to him. After a few minutes of looking him over he asked the angel, “how long have you been like this?”

“Last night,” Paul responded, and the man sighed.

“Alright. Well, there are two separate spells I’ve got to do. And thankfully, we have time.” He started to search around Ricky’s house for something, and Paul turned to John.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you about all of this before. I never meant to hurt you or anything, I just…”

“It’s fine. As long as you’re going to be okay, I’m fine.” Then he leaned over and kissed the angel, surprising George and Ringo.

“Oh, my god,” the guitarist exclaimed. “You finally did it!”

Paul blushed. “What do you mean finally?” But as soon as George opened up his mouth to talk, he gasped and leaned forward to vomit. It pooled on the carpet floor, a brilliant blue colour.

“What the fuck?!” Ringo said. “God, he needs to go to the hospital!” He seemed to have forgotten why they were at Ricky’s place to begin with.

“We can’t take him to the hospital until he’s human, Richie. We just need to get through these spells, and then he’s free to go.” John rubbed Paul’s back. “Love, do you want to go to the toilet?”

“I don’t want to get up, Johnny. My legs hurt so much.” Then, Michael ran back into the room.

“Christ, he’s going to pass out. Lay him back on the couch.” Then he set a glass of liquid down on the table.

“He’s throwing up! If we lay him down, he’s going to choke!” George protested.

“If we don’t do this now, he’s going to die.” John, now freaked out, started to help Paul down onto the couch. When he was finally down, Michael started to say something. George glanced nervously at John as Paul’s eyes closed and he started to whine.

“What are you doing to him? Is he okay?”

Michael didn’t stop until Paul sat up on the couch, coughing and gasping for air. The older man was quick to reach over and force the glass of green liquid into Paul’s hand.

“Drink it,” he demanded, and Paul didn’t hesitate to drink it all at once. He didn’t care how awful it tasted.

“What’s in that?” John asked, still not trusting Michael.

“It doesn’t matter,” Michael replied. “His body has slowed down now, but we can’t do another spell on him for a few hours. We need to give him time to heal.” Michael took the glass back from Paul and left.

“What does that mean? Is he going to be okay, though?”

“I don’t know.”


	17. Chapter 17

“Please, please, no!” Paul shouted, his knees falling into the dirt of the park he was in. Parents looked over at him.

“Sir!” they shouted. “Sir, are you alright?” But he didn’t hear them.

“You knew this was coming. Nothing you say will change this. It is your fault! You f*ggot!!” He cried out louder.

“Please don’t do this! He’s going to die!”

“You know the deal, McCartney. You can have them back whenever you want.”

“No! God, please! No, don’t do this! You don’t have to do this!” He started to bury his hands into the ground.

“You can save yourself or nobody. What’s it going to be?!”

“Him! I want to save him!” Now, the parents around him were starting to get worried. They kept their kids away from him as he broke down.

“You can’t! But you can forget everything if you choose to right now. You get a new chance to be a saviour. Just say the word.”

“He’s my friend! I want to be with him! Take me to him!”

“You have your choice, McCartney.” And then the voice was gone, and Paul fell completely to the ground. At some point, the police showed up, and he didn’t have the strength to fight them.

They took him into the station, where he began to cry, feeling at his face, how wet it was. It was so strange.

“You’re Paul McCartney,” he heard a shocked voice say out loud, and when he looked up, he saw a man in uniform, grinning. “My daughter’s in love with you, Sir.”

“That’s irrelevant,” the other officer said. “What were you doing in the park? Are you high?”

Paul shook his head, coughing a bit. God, his throat felt dry.

“Want some water?” the officer said, and he just nodded. He’d never had water… When the officer returned, he handed Paul a small plastic cup and a pack of crackers. He took a sip of the water, which was fairly easy to swallow, and then looked between the officers.

“Look, we don’t think you were doing anything bad. It’s a pretty nice area. Parents are always overreacting about all kinds of shit.” 

“What he’s saying is we’re gonna let you go, son. Just be careful. No more drugs, alright?” Paul nodded once again.

“C-could I get an autograph for my daughter, though?” the man asked, smiling like mad.

“Erm, s-sure.” After he gave the man his autograph, he left, finishing his water and opening up the pack of crackers. Maybe eating one would calm him down a bit. But as he put it into his mouth, he found that he had no idea how he was supposed to even chew it, let alone swallow it.

He spit the cracker back out of his mouth and started on his way to the one place he was sure to be safe. John’s house.

-

Paul laid down on the couch, resting as his stomach continued to grumble, begging him for some sort of relief. John sat next to him, hand resting on Paul’s stomach.

“Love, I just don’t think you should do this. What’s so bad about getting your wings back? Things can just go back to the way they were.”

“They won’t, Johnny. Please, I’ve been asking you to just trust me. Why don’t you?”

John opened his mouth to argue, but Michael talked back to him from the kitchen. “John, if you want him to survive through this next spell, you better stop wearing him out, he’s got to have enough strength for this.”

“Sorry,” he mumbled, and then Paul started to stand. “Hey, no wait, what are you doing? Shouldn’t you rest?”

“I think I’m gonna be sick.”

“Ringo!” John called, although the drummer was just on the other couch. “Can you get him a bin or something?”

“John, I can get up and go to the toilet myself!” But Ringo had already gotten up. They both knew he didn’t need to be up and moving.

“I know you can, Macca. I just don’t think you understand how important your health is right now. You getting up and walking right now could be the reason you die. You just don’t know.”

Paul rolled his eyes as Ringo brought over a small trash bin. “This alright?”

“Yeah, thanks, Richie.”

Ringo went back to his spot on the other couch. “How are you feeling, Paul?” he asked. “You look pensive.”

“Yeah, I’m just thinking about a lot of things right now.” Neither John nor Ringo responded, so he kept talking. “Do you… well, do you think it’s better to have loved and lost or to have never loved at all?” John laughed. “What?”

“That’s so deep, Paul. I mean, where’d you even come up with that?”

“I’m being serious,” he replied. God, he sounded absolutely ridiculous.

“Erm, well, it probably depends for me,” Ringo said. “If it was you, then I’d probably choose the first option. I think it’d be worth losing you to have all that fun. But John on the other hand…” John glared and threw a pillow at him, hitting him right in the face. “It was a joke, it was a joke!”

John giggled, but Paul only got more red, almost like he was about to cry. “Macca, what’s the matter?”

“What if you knew you were the reason they died? Th-then what? Would you still choose to lose them?”

Ringo looked between John and Paul. Ricky had told him the reason Paul had probably lost his wings. And that John was probably the person he was supposed to save, too. And then it all made sense to him.

“M-Macca… what are you saying? I-is this about me?”

Then, Paul broke. “John, I just don’t know what to do about it. Y-you’re going to die, and there’s nothing we can do to stop it!”

“I know, Paul, and I want to say that it’s okay, b-but we both know it’s not.”

“I’m so sorry. It’s my fault!” He was sobbing now, and John didn’t know what to do. Michael looked over and sighed. “I mean, now you know that you’re going to die. Isn’t that scary? Don’t you constantly worry about that?”

“I… yes, but--”

“John, w-would it be better if you didn’t? If you just forgot all of it? Would that be better?” John didn’t answer, but Paul knew he wanted to say yes. Michael walked into the room, followed by George.

“What’s going on? Is everything okay?” He looked at Paul. “You need to keep him resting. What--?”

“He’s upset, you heartless prick!” John shouted, hugging Paul from the side. “Is he not allowed to be upset, either?”

“He needs to be laying down or he’s going to die!”

“I want my wings back!” Paul shouted. He saw the way John was being so affected by knowing of his death, and he couldn’t stand knowing he was the cause.

“W-what?” John whispered. “Paul, we’re doing this all because you didn’t want them back! Can you even still get them back?!”

“As long as he’s not completely human, I believe,” Michael said. “But I never knew how.”

“If I choose to forget about John,” he started. “He’ll forget about me, too. I think you all will. The only people that won’t would be my father and brother. But I’d go somewhere else and have to save somebody new.”

“But you can’t just… leave us.”

“I’ve done it before.” John went silent. “I don’t remember who, b-but God told me. They said it was a few years ago. I fell in love, and I chose to get my wings back, and I’ve never once remembered them. It all went back to the way it should’ve been.”

“You can’t be serious,” George said. “Paul, you’re just going to leave him to die?! We’ll never even remember you! What about The Beatles? What’s the world going to think?”

“The world won’t remember The Beatles…”

John gasped and grabbed onto Paul as if it would change his mind. “You can’t, Paul. I love you so much. I can’t stand the thought of living life without you.”

“But w-wouldn’t it be better for you if you didn’t know you were supposed to die?”

“No! No, it wouldn’t. Not without you, please! Macca, please!”

“It would be so much better to have never loved at all! I’ve done it before, John! And I’ve never regretted it!”

“If you remembered, you would regret it! Please, no! I don’t want to lose you, Paul!”

Then, there was a dinging from the kitchen. “That’s the formula!” Michael cried. “We’ve got to do this before it cools down. Paul, are you ready?”

“I want things to go back to normal!” He cried. “I hate all of this pain, John!”

“He’s ready,” John said. “Macca? We’re going to turn you into a human, and then everything is going to go back to normal, okay?”

Paul stared at John, wondering what all he would miss of the man, whether he knew it or not, and suddenly, he couldn’t find a single reason to let go of him.

“Okay.”


	18. Chapter 18

“Okay.” John let out a breath of relief he didn’t know he’d been holding onto. “Okay, do it. Make me human.”

Michael wasted no time. “George, go get the formula.” The guitarist ran out of the room as the older man knelt down next to Paul, helping him to lie down on the couch. “Love, this is going to hurt, alright?”

“H-how much?” Michael glanced over at John with a pained look.

“Do you remember when you got your wings?” He nodded and started to cough from it. “Well, it’s like that. Kind of. Just…”

“Just what?” John asked anxiously, grabbing onto Paul’s hand.

“A lot worse.” Paul screamed in fear.

“Oh, god. God, no, I don’t want to do this anymore!” He was crying harder once again, squeezing John’s hand so hard it felt like knives.

“Macca, it’s the only way to fix you up, alright? It’s gonna be over in just a minute, right?”

“... A few minutes, yeah,” Michael confirmed, and George walked slowly over to the table with a pan of boiling hot blue liquid. John didn’t question it. This was a terribly important moment. “I’ve… only ever done this once before, and… she died--”

“Wait, hold on,” John said. “And you think you’re qualified to do this to my friend?!”

“It was because she was burned from the blue water, and we didn’t get her to the hospital in time…”

“I’m calling an ambulance,” Ringo said, getting up from the couch. “Can we do this before they arrive?”

Michael nodded. “Yes, I’ll start right now. You’re going to have to roll over, Paul. And take off your shirt.” Paul did as he was told and waited worriedly on the couch as he started to chant things, and not two seconds later, he could feel an excruciatingly painful feeling on his back, as if somebody was carving holes into it. But it was in the same place as it had been when he grew his wings.

He squeezed John’s hand even tighter, screaming louder than he ever had in his entire life. And then Michael reached over for the blue water and started to pour it onto Paul’s back, making the pain a thousand times worse.

“Johnny, when is it going to be over?!”

“Soon, Macca, soon.” He watched as his friend’s back turned red, and all he wanted was to make it stop, but the man would be better soon. And then things could finally go back to the way they were meant to.

Soon enough, Michael was done with the spell. “Your wings are completely gone, Paul. You’re human now.”

“I want my mum.” For the first time all day, Jim McCartney spoke.

“She’s not here, Paulie.” He looked down at the floor. “But I’m sure she would be proud of you.” Then they heard sirens.

“That’s the ambulance,” Ringo said. “Everything’s gonna be alright, Paul.”

-

“So, he’s going to be okay?” John asked the doctor standing in front of them all.

“Yes. He’ll need bed rest for a few days so that his skin cells can heal him up, but he’ll be alright. Fully functioning by Wednesday.”

They all sighed in relief. It was going to be fine.

And then Brian walked in the waiting room. “I came as soon as I heard. What the fuck is going on?” He saw everybody in the room, recognising all but one of them. “Who’s this?” he asked politely.

“His name’s Michael. Well, Michael in Ricky’s body, really. He saved Paul.”

“Saved Paul? What are you talking about? Why is he in the ER? What happened to him?”

“Boiling water,” George said with a grin.

“And in Liverpool?”

“Yup!” Brian took a seat next to John, who looked like he’d been through a lot.

“You alright?”

“I’m fine, yeah. Little bit worried about him, but the doctor says he’ll be fine, so… I guess everything’s fine now.” Brian eyed him. “Eppy, what is it?”

“You just… you look different. Like you know something you didn’t want to.”

John just laughed. “Oh, shut the fuck up and go sit next to somebody else. I’m too tired to deal with your shit.” He pouted, and Brian smiled.

“Alright, I’ll shut up.” The doctor walked back in. “We’re ready to discharge him. I’m going to need somebody to come sign the papers.” Jim got up and followed the doctor out of the room, and then George spoke up.

“So… does that mean we get more time off?” He smiled at Brian.

“Only if you tell me what the hell is actually going on. And why he needed a whole week off to begin with.” John glanced over at the others. “Well?”

“Erm, well, Paul was an angel… and then he fell in love with John and lost his wings--”

“He… first of all, angel? Is that even a real thing? And second… he… is he queer?” Brian looked over at John. “Are you queer?” John just rolled his eyes.

“Anyway,” George said sassily. “He was human and then he couldn’t eat or something and we had to go turn him into a human, and apparently the only way to do that is to pour boiling blue water on his back and…”

“Were you all on acid? You just got some random dude to pour boiling water on poor Paul’s back?! What were you thinking?!”

“He’s an exorcist,” John corrected. “To turn Paul human so that he didn’t die.”

“So he needed a week off because…?”

“Because he was newly human and didn’t know how to eat or use the toilet.” By this point, John was just annoyed. The day had been much too long already.

“Right… So you took the week off to potty train the bassist…”

John glared at him. “No, that’s not… fine, if that is what it takes for you to understand, then yes.” He got up and started to pace across the floor just as Jim came out, pushing Paul in a wheelchair.

“Johnny!” he cried, and they could tell he was still drugged up. “Oh, my god, John, I love you so much. I thought I was going to die.”

“We wouldn’t let that happen, now would we?” His mood immediately changed, and he ran over to his friend, kneeling down to the ground to kiss him. Brian watched, shocked at it.

“So… you take off a week, and suddenly you’re both queer? Well, that’s not fair! Had I known that…” He trailed off.

“I wanna go home,” the ex-angel said tiredly, eyes drooping.

“We’re taking you home, love,” Jim replied. “You and John are staying with me until Wednesday.”

“Can we leave? I don’t like being in the hospital.” Jim started to push him along, and he fell asleep before they were even in the car.

“So, who’s riding with who?”

“I can take Richie and George back to London,” Brian offered.

“What about my car?” George asked.

“I’ll drive it home.” They all looked over at John. “Paul and I are coming back on Wednesday, so you should be alright without it for a few days, no?”

“Alright, then.” Ringo put an arm around George, leading him towards Brian’s car, and Michael looked over at Jim.

“Could you make a stop at the prison…?”

“The prison?”

-

They did, in fact, stop at the prison and waited while Michael walked inside, and when he walked back out, it was somebody completely different.

“Oh, hello!” the man said to Jim with a big smile. “Long time no see, Jim. How’s Mike?” That was the Ricky that Jim knew.

“He’s alright. What exactly… how did Michael become you?”

“He projected himself somehow. I’m not really sure how it works. But I see Paul’s doing better.” He saw the tag on the bassist’s wrist. “Why’d he go to the hospital?”

“You sent that guy to fix him, Ricky,” John said. “Guess you didn’t know how he was doing it, huh?”

“I guess… not. But he’s okay, yeah?”

“Yeah, he’s fine. He’ll be up and running by Wednesday, the doctor says.” Ricky nodded. “Erm, we’re just gonna drop you off at your place, alright? I’m picking up George’s car and driving it back to Paul’s.”

“Alright. That sounds good.”

“Cool. And, Ricky, thanks so much. I’m sure Paul would’ve been dead right now if it wasn’t for you.”

Ricky blushed. “Well, I couldn’t have my favourite little angel dying, could I?” 

John just smiled, keeping an eye on his friend, peacefully sleeping next to him. Paul really didn’t deserve all of this, but he was glad the man had made the right decision. Now he could keep his Macca.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I meant to post this yesterday lol

“Well, sorry.” Paul rolled his eyes. “I just thought that maybe you’d enjoy it.”

“Dinner with you and your father? Maybe. But movie night?” Paul just laughed.

“If you really don’t want to, it’s fine. No hard feelings. I never really enjoyed it, either, as a kid, but… it’d be a lot more bearable with you there.”

“Fine, fine, I’ll be right down. Let me at least finish my crossword.”

The angel giggled. “You’re so full of shit, you old lady. Come on.” John sighed dramatically but got up anyway and followed Paul down the stairs, keeping an eye on him to make sure he got down safely.

“Did you really walk up here all alone? That’s not very safe, now, is it, love?”

“I didn’t walk! I crawled! There’s a difference, isn’t there?” John just rolled his eyes.

“What a sight. Paul McCartney crawling up the stairs.” When Paul reached over to hit him, he laughed some more. “What are we watching, anyway?”

“I don’t know. But my dad is really excited, so don’t ruin this for him.” The older man glared at him. “No matter what the movie is, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, fine. Whatever.”

-

After the movie, which actually did end up being pretty fun, Jim went off to bed, leaving John and Paul on the couch.

“D-do you want to watch something?” John asked the angel. He’d been under the blanket almost the entire movie with him, and when his facial expression remained the same, John cocked his head. “You alright? Can you hear me?”

“I… I can hear you, I just… think I’m broken or something.”

John laughed, turning the television off. “Broken? You really look fine to me, Paul. Let’s head to bed then.” As he made his way towards the younger man, Paul tore the blanket off and pulled down his pants, revealing his situation to John, who closed his eyes. “What are you--? Paul, how long have you been…?”

“I don’t know what happened. It started to feel weird during the movie, and I tried to get rid of it, but every time I touched it, it just…”

John opened his eyes and laughed. “Holy shit. You do know what an erection is, right?” When Paul remained silent, he just about lost it. “Christ. You’re hard, Paul.”

“So it’s normal?” The worry left him, and John was taken back at how serious he sounded.

“Fuck. Yeah, it’s normal, love. Why don’t you just take care of it, and we can get to bed.” He started to walk out of the room when Paul spoke.

“Take care of it? How do I…?” And then he stopped.

“You don’t know how to wank?” John checked just to make sure Paul’s father had really gone to bed and wasn’t coming down the stairs. “Alright, you just… I don’t know how to describe it.”

Paul looked up at him with wide eyes, pulling his pants back up. “I can figure it out. Don’t worry.” He rushed off to his room, and John just chuckled. Paul definitely was going to be a handful. He went to his own room, well Mike’s, just next door to Paul’s. And just as he was about to fall asleep, he heard a scream. Paul’s scream.

He shot out of bed so fast and hurried into the other man’s room, closing his eyes when he saw the angel wrapped around the leg to his bedside table, eyes wide.

“Paul, why the hell are you screaming?!” 

“It feels so good!” John opened his eyes again, and his friend was still humping the table, fully clothed.

“Fuck, I’m… Christ, sorry, I just thought you were hurt or something.” He blushed and ran from the room, hiding under his covers as he heard Paul’s moans clearly through the walls.

Finally, the younger man stopped, and he was able to get to sleep.

-

The next few days went by rather fast, and before he even knew it, they were both sitting on John’s couch with a cup of tea in each of their hands. They were supposed to be back in the studio tomorrow morning, and John wasn’t sure he was ready yet.

The last time they had been, Paul was in the worst mental state he’d ever been in, and he was worried if they went back, his friend would get worse.

But the angel still told him he would be fine. 

“John, things have to go back to normal sometime. I can’t just stay home the rest of my life.” 

“I know, but… are you sure you’re ready?” Paul nodded, and John sighed. “Alright, but if you ever feel like you want to leave, you just tell me, and we’ll come back here.”

“Okay, I’ll tell you. If I ever feel like I don’t want to be there, we’ll leave. I promise.”

-

He didn’t say a thing. Not because he had no problem, but because he had already caused so much trouble, that he didn’t want to be responsible for any more.

But karma came back to him, because as soon as they were all getting ready to leave the studio, he felt his hands get clammy and his throat close up. John noticed.

“Macca, what’s wrong?” He got up next to the angel just as he leaned forward and vomited all over the floor in front of them. “Oh, shit.” John rubbed his back and looked back up at everybody else in the room.

“I thought he was human,” George said… “This was only something he did as an angel, right?”

“He is human!” John shouted. “I mean, it’s not blue…” 

Paul looked back up at them with a face red with embarrassment. “M’sorry,” he mumbled. “My stomach hurts.”

John groaned. “Why didn’t you say something, Paulie?” A shrug came just before he collapsed into John’s arms. “Shit! We need to get him to a doctor!”

“What if this has something to do with that spell?” George asked. “The doctor won’t know how to do anything for him!” 

“Well, what if it’s not?” John shot back. “Look, we’ve been through so much, and we know he’s human now, so let’s just take him to the doctor, and if they say it’s nothing, we’ll go back to Ricky’s.”

Paul then came back to consciousness. “John, my head hurts, too.” John put a hand up to Paul’s forehead.

“I’m taking him to the doctor. He’s hot.” He started to walk Paul out of the room, waving goodbye to his friends. “See you all tomorrow.”

He managed to get paul out to the car and in the passenger seat as he began to fall asleep. 

“Hey, stay awake for me, okay? We’re gonna take you to the doctor and see what’s going on.” He had to try his best to stay calm after everything that had happened recently, and he told himself that there was a reasonable explanation for all of this. There had to be.

Paul sniffled and coughed a little. “How long until we’re there?”

“Just a few minutes, love. You’ll be alright.” He didn’t know that. He was on the verge of breaking down, probably shouldn’t even be driving right now, anyway. But his friend was sick, and he had to make sure he was okay.

He pulled out onto the road, and Paul groaned beside him. “Johnny, I think I’m gonna be sick again.”

“Just a few more minutes, love. Will you be okay until then?” He didn’t get a response, so he sped up down the road and pulled into the parking lot of the doctor’s office just in time for Paul to open the door and be sick next to the car. People around them made faces and turned the other way. 

The bassist finished and stood up, walking over to John. “How long is this going to take? I’m tired.”

“I don’t know,” John admitted, putting an arm around him and walking at the slow pace next to him. “I’ll make it as fast as I can.” 

When they were inside the private office, the lady behind the counter looked between them. “Is everything okay?”

“He’s sick,” John said, and the lady nodded.

“I’ll go check and make sure the doctor is ready.” She was only gone for a second or two before she came back and told them to go on in. John accompanied Paul with every step until they walked into the office to meet the doctor, a huge smile on his face.

“Hello there! What are we here for today?” He looked at how sickly Paul looked and sighed. “Ah.”

“He’s been sick a few times and his head hurts,” John said, helping him into a chair.

“Well, that’s no fun. I’ll just check a few things for you, and run a few tests.” He got up close to Paul and started to check in his mouth and nose and ears, all of which made Paul very uncomfortable. John saw how he moved around a bit.

After a few minutes, the doctor sighed deeply. “I’m just going to go grab something really quick. I’ll be right back.”

He left the room and Paul looked worriedly over at his friend. “Do you think I’m really human? What if he doesn’t know what’s wrong with me?”

“I don’t know, Paul. I’m sure you’ll be just fine, though.”


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lol last chapter

The doctor stepped back into the room with a pained look. “I have some bad news.” John looked worriedly at Paul, waiting for the doctor to say something about how nothing seemed to even be wrong. “We’ve got the flu going around, and we’ll have to get that checked out.” He set a swab down next to Paul.

“What’s that?” he asked nervously.

“That’s a flu test,” the doctor responded. “I’ve just got to be sure it’s the flu and not something too serious.”

John sighed in relief. Maybe it was just the flu. That would definitely make him feel a little bit better. But when the doctor started to unwrap the test, he saw Paul tense up. “W-where does it go? How does it test?”

“Your nose,” the doctor replied. “You’ve never had a flu test done before?” Paul shook his head curtly. “Alright, well, it’ll sting, but just for a second.” The doctor had him tilt his head back, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw John coming towards him and grabbing onto his hand.

He didn’t know why it was such a big deal, but as soon as he felt the incredible pain up his nose, he squeezed his friend’s hand hard. It only lasted a second or two, but the amount of pain John felt from the squeezing was probably equal to what the angel felt.

But before he knew it, the test was out of his nose, and he sniffled, two tears falling down his cheeks. “Are you okay?” John whispered to him.

“Y-yeah, I didn’t know it was going to hurt that bad… sorry,” he apologised to the doctor. “That was a bit of an overreaction, I’m sure.”

“It’s quite alright, Mr. McCartney. I’ll go start the test, and you should be out of here in twenty or thirty minutes.” With a nod, he scampered out of the room, leaving the two of them, and John was immediately speaking.

“Paul, I’m so sorry. Flu tests suck. I didn’t know you’d need one.” The bassist mumbled something but fell into John’s arms anyway. He stayed there and quiet until the doctor walked back into the room, and he shot up.

“Hey, so… more bad news…” John tensed once again. “It’s positive. I’m afraid you’ve got the flu, sir.” When he noticed the worry in Paul’s eyes, he was quick to inform him what it really meant. “Just be sure to keep well rested this week. If your symptoms get too bad or progress further than a week, please come back so we can just make sure everything’s alright.”

“Any medicine?” John asked for him.

“Just painkillers whenever necessary. It shouldn’t be too bad, though.” Paul stood up from the bed tiredly. 

“Let’s get you home, Macca.” He helped the younger man out of the office and back into the car. The ride was uneventful, and as soon as he was home, he rang Brian at the studio.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Eppy, look… Paul’s got the flu. Doctor says he should stay home and rest this week.” He sighed as the manager spoke to him through the speaker. “No, I know we’re behind schedule, I just… look, it’s not his fault. He didn’t have a flu shot.” Paul listened nervously from the couch. He felt bad enough about pushing them back this far, and now he’d made it worse. 

John paced back and forth as it seemed Brian was lecturing him. He looked over at the angel and rolled his eyes, causing him to laugh. 

“Look, Eppy. We’ll be back by Monday, yeah?... Yeah, I know I said that last time. But this time, it’s just the flu. Last time, he was an angel… Okay, thank you… Alright. I’ll call you later, then.” He put the phone on the wall, and sighed loudly. “God! He’s a lot!”

“Come over here, Johnny,” Paul whispered nervously, and the older man nodded shyly, making his way over to the couch.

“How are you feeling? Need some more soup?”

He shook his head. “I n-need to tell you something.” He was finally doing it. He was finally going to tell John what he’d been hiding for so long.

“I’m getting nervous,” John tried to lighten the way the mood felt, but it didn’t work, and his fake smile fell. “What’s going on? Are you breaking up with me?” Another joke fell dead.

“John, do you remember that night I kissed you?” A nod.

“From last week? It's not very hard to forget something from last week.” That was the last joke he tried to make when he saw Paul’s frown.

“I didn’t… I didn’t do that because I wanted to just know how it felt. I wanted to kiss YOU. For you.” John nodded, remembering how Paul told him all of this in Liverpool. “A-and that night, you kind of made me feel like you didn’t like it, and I didn’t want to make you too uncomfortable, so I guess I just kept it under wraps.”

“Macca--” He didn’t know where his friend was going with this.

“But every time I look at you, I just feel so bad about that night, and I just remember how it was my own fault that you’re going to die.” A single tear slipped quietly out of his eye. “And I just want you to know that I am incredibly sorry about that. And you’re allowed to be mad at me for it.”

“I’m not,” John responded immediately. “Paul, we’ve talked about this. I don’t blame you for anything. People die, yeah? I mean, one day you’ll die, now.” He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, and then leaned in to kiss Paul, hoping to feel a little less awkward, but Paul didn’t reciprocate the kiss.

“I can’t believe I’ve ruined your life just because I let my stupid feelings get in the way of my purpose.”

John’s eyebrows knitted together. “Ruined? Purpose?! Paul, you haven’t ruined a thing! If anything, you’ve just made it better! And you don’t need a bloody purpose to be happy! You’ve got me, yeah?”

“I know, I just…” He cut himself off with a sob. “I’m being selfish. I don’t want to lose you!”

“That’s not you being selfish, Macca! That means you love me just as much as I love you!” He snuggled up to Paul with a soft smile. The warmth that the once cold man radiated was soothing. “We don’t know how long we’ve got until I die, anyway…”

“I wish we could pretend we didn’t even know. It would be easier that way.”

John hugged him, because it seemed much more fitting to the situation than a kiss. “I know, love. I wish we could, too. But we can’t.” He meant it in the most assuring way possible. “So let’s just make the most of what time we do have, yeah?”

Paul nodded with a soft sigh. “John Lennon, I never could have asked for anyone as amazing as you. I hope you feel the same.” His voice was quiet and sad, but John still heard it.

“Of course I do,” he replied softly, wiping a tear off his friend’s face. “You’re my angel.”

-

1957

Paul sat on a chair across the room from the sleeping body of John on his own bed. He’d agreed to stay the night, though he felt very awkward for declining dinner. Mimi didn’t seem to mind, though. She wasn’t much focused on him, anyway.

That night, when his friend began to lay blankets out on the floor of his small room for the angel, he didn’t know what he was going to do all night. There wasn’t much else to do other than stare at the walls, hoping the night went by fast.

But he still wound up finding himself fixated on the rise and fall of John’s chest. Surely, this boy had to be the one he was destined to save. They had connected like nobody Paul had ever known before. Even his mother.

And as the night went on, he moved closer to the bed, feeling a strange sensation in his core, something that made him want to protect John no matter what. The boy rolled over in bed, eyes still closed, and the angel sighed. 

“John,” he said quietly in the dead of night, probably the only person in the whole town who was even awake. There was nobody to hear him. The older boy snored softly. “John, I think I love you.”

That was the night Paul McCartney had admitted to himself that his life would be very, very difficult.


End file.
